Broken
by Ambivalentanarchist
Summary: Emma Baker is a young girl born and raised in the heart of Seattle—which just happens to be the Townsend's new home. A child of an abusive home, Emma is drawn into the Townsend family when Jack passes her by one night on the street. But why are they so interested in her? Takes place post-Wisdom. Starts out slowly, eventually Peter/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"And stay out!" My father shouted forcefully as he slammed the door to our hovel of an apartment behind me. Although I should have been used to the way the noise rang out into the otherwise quiet night, I still found myself wincing at it as I scurried down the stairs.

I stopped, sighing softly to myself as I reached the cement steps in front of the building, pulling my sweater more tightly to me as a chilling breeze brushed past. I could already feel myself starting to shiver, but I'd been in such a hurry to escape that I'd left my purse behind, just inside the door. The few dollars I had managed to tuck away inside could do little for me where they were.

The fallen leaves that paved every inch of the city this time of year crunched against my jeans as I took a seat on the second-to-last step, hoping against hope that I wouldn't have to wait outside very long before he wound down for the night or, inevitably, passed out on the couch.

There wasn't any hard evidence to support the fact, but I was convinced that the neighbors we shared a wall with dealt drugs of one sort or another. So, when I heard a vehicle pull up a few minutes later, even knowing that it was past eleven, I wasn't phased. I didn't even bother with raising my head. I assumed that it had to be one of their 'friends', the ones that came and went at all hours of the day and night.

I heard the engine die and the car's door open and close solidly. Still, I didn't look up from the square of sidewalk I'd been fixed on until a pair of hot pink converse stepped into my field of vision.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked, his handsome, easy-going face set in concern as I met his blue-grey eyes.

I felt my heart speed up and my face flush as I took him in. Usually, there weren't many people I noticed _that_ way, but there was something about him that made it impossible not to.

He seemed about average for a man in height, although he was a little on the leaner side. He could have been older than me, but not by much. It was hard to put a pin on how old he was. He had one of those faces that made him look sixteen and twenty-five at the same time.

He was wearing cargo shorts and a cotton tee in addition to his converse. They didn't look like they could hold up to the October cold, but he didn't seem bothered by it at all.

"Hey," His brow furrowed as he crouched down in front of me, the movement graceful and seemingly effortless. "Talk to me. It's okay."

"I'm fine." I managed, quietly, feeling my cheeks grow hotter when I realized I'd done little more than sit there, starting at him. I forced myself to avert my eyes, going against my every instinct in my body. Although I couldn't explain the feeling if I tried, something in me needed to be closer to this mystery man. "Sorry."

"Don't sweat it." He said gently, flashing me a look that filled me with warmth as he stood. I expected the attractive stranger to walk away then and go about his normal business–although the thought crushed a small part of me. But, instead, he took a seat on the stair beside me. Typically, I would have been bothered by the imposition on my personal space, but, aside from the respectful distance he kept between us, there was just something about him that set me at ease.

I kept my eyes forward, locked on the red sports car he'd arrived in, pulled up against the curb in front of us. The object made me uncomfortable. It was a sure sign that he had money, or that he came from it. It left me wondering what someone like him was doing in this part of town.

Absently, I rubbed my arms through the thick, knitted fabric I'd wrapped myself in. I glanced over at him, beside me, seemingly unperturbed by the falling temperature as we sat in silence. Could he have really come out here to buy drugs? I asked myself, unsurely. Or, worse, a prostitute? He just seemed so incapable of either of those things.

"Are you lost?" I asked, softly. "I can give you directions if you need them."

He shook his head almost immediately. "No, no, that's okay." Things were quiet for a minute before he spoke again. "Do you want to go for a ride with me?"

"I... I shouldn't." I decided, swallowing and shaking my head. I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, hoping the position would keep me a little warmer. "It's not such a good idea. I don't even know you." I added, faintly.

The idea of sitting in front of a running heater even for a five minute spin around the block was beyond tempting, but the logical part of me was wary of the offer. He seemed kind enough and I wanted to trust him, but I knew better than most what people were like. They didn't do things for one another without expecting anything in return, whether it was right away or somewhere down the line.

"My name's Jack." He announced, grinning charmingly. "If that helps any."

His natural charisma only made it harder to keep saying no, so, instead, I turned away and pressed my head to my knees, exhaling heavily in frustration, although the noise was suppressed. What was it about him? I knew that if it had been anyone else, I would have walked away, but, he made me feel ridiculously safe in a way I had never felt before. Not even in my own home.

He continued, undeterred by reaction. "How about a cup of coffee, then? You don't even have to get in my car. Look, there's a diner, right across the street. I'll buy. Come on."

I lifted my head, opening my mouth to protest in some way or other before abruptly closing it. I was so cold. And tired. I turned my head to the diner he'd gestured to. _Peggy's_. It was open until two in the morning, which was considerably late, even for the area. I'd spent more than one night there trying to stretch the change in my pocket until I could come home, sometimes doing homework, sometimes reading a book I had stashed in my purse. Though, most of the time I would just sit in the corner booth doing nothing at all.

I chewed my lower lip in hesitation, the urge to simply give in to his offer growing with each passing second. A cup of coffee sounded like absolute heaven. How much could I really owe him for one cup of coffee, really? It was only five dollars, and that was if you included tax and a tip.

"Okay." I said, as firmly as I could manage, as I stood up, my arms firmly wrapped around myself as I came to full height.

"That's great!" Jack all but exclaimed, popping up from his own seat. When he held out his hand to me I blinked, but took it, allowing him to lead us across the unfrequented street. I reached for the door, but he beat me to it, holding it open before guiding us to a table in the far corner.

Jack barely had the chance to slide into his side of the booth before a waitress appeared. It struck me as odd, initially, but considering the way even I'd reacted to him, I guess it shouldn't have. He probably got excellent service wherever he went.

I kept to myself he chatted with the waitress, not bothering to pick up the menu I'd long memorized as he asked her for some water for himself and some coffee for me. "Doesn't your sister want anything else, honey?" She queried, cloyingly.

"She's not my sister." He stated evenly, before turning to me. "Is there anything else you want?" He asked, as the middle-aged woman openly ogled him. I could feel an ache in the bottom of my stomach starting to form, since my father's drunken arrival this evening had begun with him knocking the dinner I'd spent hours on to the kitchen floor, but I just shook my head, not wanting to test the limits of his generosity.

"I'm fine with coffee." I insisted, as I pushed the menu to the outer edge of the table so it wouldn't be in the way when our drinks arrived.

"Let me know if you change your mind. The money isn't a problem." He said, casually, as the waitress stalked off, clearly unhappy that he was so focused on me.

I'm sure the look on my face was nothing less than incredulous at the words. I shook my head a little to myself as I fought to reign in my expression. We came from two different worlds, that much was painfully obvious.

"Sorry." He said, sheepishly, after a moment. Even as he apologized, he was so lively and animated, especially around the eyes. There was a youthful spirit to him that a part of me envied. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's just—"

"—Here you are!" The waitress interrupted, simpering as she cut me off. She'd returned more quickly than I'd anticipated, setting Jack's water in front of him and my coffee in front of me. As my eyes swept over her name tag, I realized she'd served me before. My regular waitress, Megan, had been out sick. Judy. I remembered it vividly now. Christmas eve. She'd all but threw me out that night because I couldn't afford to order more than a few cups of coffee. Even before that, she had never seemed like a pleasant person. It didn't shock me that her advances towards Jack–if one would call them that–were at my expense.

I wrapped my hands around the mug and quietly thanked her, despite the rude way she'd clipped into our conversation. Although she usually hustled and bustled with her work, she lingered at the table, blatantly staring Jack down. He didn't seem bothered at all by the way she was was leering at him, dismissing her easily with his own words of thanks.

He centered his beverage in front of him, although he didn't otherwise seem interested in it, leaving it untouched as he sprung back into conversation. "So, have I earned the right to your name yet? Because, I'd really like to know it."

I cleared my throat softly and looked down at the cup nestled between my warming hands as I answered, embarrassed that I hadn't thought to give it to him when he'd introduced himself. "It's Emma."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I absolutely abhorred my coffee black. The flavor was just too strong without anything else to balance it. Judy had forgotten to leave the cream and sugar at the table–or perhaps she was just being spiteful—so I chocked down the first mug unsweetened. I could have called her over, but it was more bearable to drink the bitter liquid plain.

"You're not enjoying that." Jack stated unequivocally, after watching me grimacing around the last sip. He slid it in front of himself, beside his untouched water after I'd set it down on the table. "How do you usually take it?" He asked, pouring hot coffee from the pot that our server had left an inch short of the brim.

"Well, I didn't want to bother her..." I began, tactfully, trying to explain away why I hadn't wanted to hassle without being explicit, but he wouldn't have it.

"It's her job. Don't worry about it." He said, offhandedly, as he waved our waitress over. I huffed a little in frustration, but I wasn't actually rude enough to say anything, at least, not right to her face.

"Two creams, two sugars." I murmured softly, as she approached.

He flashed her a charming smile as he asked and she looked like she might swoon just looking at him. I blushed furiously and ducked my head, completely mortified when my stomach chose that moment to announce the hunger I'd been feeling for the past hour. "I'm sorry." I whispered, over to him, but he only shook his head at me, refusing to accept my apology as turned his attention back to the waitress.

"And a BLT for the lady, please." I fidgeted with the hem of my sweater self-consciously as the waitress rushed off, only looking up when Jack spoke again, but his temperament hadn't changed. He was just as boisterous as he'd been before. "I don't know why you're embarrassed—I told you, it's nothing!" He insisted, with a smile. "I hope what I ordered you was okay. I mean... Everyone likes a good BLT, right?"

I managed a chuckle, if only a small one. "I'm not a vegetarian or anything, if that's what you're trying to ask me... It... It's great. Really. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. Like I said, it's nothing." He said again, just as emphatically as before.

"It's not nothing to me." I said, quietly, sparking a hint of something in his blue-grey eyes that I couldn't quite place.

"Sorry." He said, sheepishly, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No... I'm the one who's sorry. Don't worry about it." I replied quickly, ashamed that I'd said anything. My sandwich and the cream and sugar Jack had requested came shortly after that, allowing the conversation to quietly lull. I focused on fixing my coffee the way I liked and trying not to scarf down the food in front of me too quickly, knowing it would only give me a stomach ache.

I tried to ignore the way Jack couldn't seem to take his eyes off of me as I finished the last few bites of my sandwich, wiping my mouth with a napkin and hoping I didn't have anything on my face. I turned my head towards the window when he didn't say anything, letting my long, dark hair curtain the area between us so I didn't have to feel his gaze on me so urgently.

After a long minute of me watching the empty street outside, he spoke up again, but I didn't turn me head back towards him. "So, what do you like to do, Emma?"

"I read a fair bit." I said, shrugging my shoulders slightly. "And I like to draw. I guess I don't have any real hobbies. I'm busy with school most of the time."

"Drawing." He looked thoughtful. "That sounds interesting, actually." He paused a second before he continued, blinking as he seemed to realize something. "Wait, so you're still in school? High school?" He quirked a brow, obviously unsure of my age.

"Yeah." I nodded, slowly, turning my head back towards him. "I'm a senior. So, I'll be graduating this year."

"I'm not keeping you out too late, am I? I mean, it's Monday night, isn't it?" I hadn't really looked at the clock since we'd gotten inside, but his words made my eyes search for it. I sighed a little in relief when it was only eleven. My father had to be asleep by now. I mean, he'd already been through half a bottle of whiskey by the time he'd kicked me out. If I was lucky, I could finish my homework before one, which meant five hours of sleep.

"No. I mean, I should get going, but, I'll be fine. You're not getting me in any more trouble than I would be in anyways." I smiled at him as he put a twenty on the table and we stood from our seats, despite how much a part of me wished I could sit in that booth all night and escaped my life for that much longer.

"Yeah, of course. Let me walk you back." He skipped in front of me, making me smile to myself when he held the door open for me, again, on our way out. "I would lend you my jacket," He said, as I wrapped my arms around myself again, even for the short walk across the street. "but, I didn't think to bring one. The cold just doesn't bother me that much."

"Don't be silly." I said with a smile on my face as I hugged the fabric closer and jay-walked across the empty street beside him. "I should have worn something heavier." It was what always happened when fall started to become winter. I always started leaving my warm jackets hung up by the door too late and always ended spending a night or two out in the cold without them.

He sighed a little, looking a little contrite for the first time as we reached the bottom of the building's steps. "I guess this is goodbye then." He stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet a little before sneaking a smile over at me. "But, not forever, I hope?"

"I'll see you around." I assured, before I turned and walked up the steps.

I walked up to the second floor and tried the doorknob, sighing gratefully when it was unlocked, which meant I wouldn't have to go downstairs and wake the super for the spare. I closed it and locked it quietly behind me, sliding off the nude ballet flats I wore with almost everything before walking on the balls of my feet across the linoleum floors.

I walked into the living room, carefully sweeping the blanket on the back of the couch over my father's unconscious form before turning off the television and starting to clean up his mess. He'd gone through two bottles of whiskey in my absence, along with several glasses. I put the bottles in the trash and washed the glasses, generally straightening everything else up before I headed to my bedroom to catch up on my homework.

I managed to finish the last of it before my eyes got so heavy that I could barely keep them open anymore. I shimmied out of my jeans and climbed under the blankets just like that, too tired to change before blackness overtook me.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I slammed down the button on my alarm to silence it as soon as I awoke, hoping, like I did every morning, that it was quickly enough to avoid waking my father prematurely. He didn't have to work until nine in the morning and I knew waking up at six always put him in a terrible mood.

I threw off the covers and clambered into the hall, my father's snoring from his open bedroom door letting me know he'd stumbled in there sometime in the night. I picked up the blanked he'd discarded and set it on the back of the couch, where it belonged, before hurrying into the bathroom to take my shower.

My morning routine was as hurried as ever. I knew the bus would be around the corner at seven sharp, and missing it would mean a thirty-minute walk and a detention slip when I finally did arrive at school. I showered, dressed, ate, packed my lunch, and was out the door with everything I needed for the day ahead before the clock hit seven forty-five.

"Excuse me." I said, apologetically, as I was knocked in the shoulder by the one other kid in my block who took the bus to school, even knowing he'd done it on purpose. I smiled tightly at the bus driver as I stepped up onto it after him, even though I'd been waiting at the corner first.

I inched my way down the tight aisle between the seats, making my way towards the back of the bus. I took the seat on the far left, knowing I wouldn't be bothered by anyone on the next few stops. Generally, people avoided it because of the way it jostled you every time the rig hit a bump, but, if it meant having a seat to myself, I didn't mind it.

I sat quietly, reading _Much Ado About Nothing_ for the twelfth time, knowing a quiz on it was waiting for me in my english class. It was of my favorite shakespearean plays, so I'd all but memorized it already, but, it seemed stupid not to take the time to go over it again when I had it.

It wasn't long until we reached our destination. Although it was certainly a long walk from the apartment, the drive was short in comparison, even having to stop as many times as the bus did.

I waited to get off last, already having tucked the hardback I'd checked out from the library back into my purse. My locker sat just outside of the cafeteria. Since I hadn't been able to get my father down to the school—sober—in time for regular registration, we'd done it late. Although that meant I always had last pick for classes, it also meant that they hadn't had the time to assign me a locker partner like they did most other students.

I opened my backpack, taking what I needed for my before-lunch classes and hanging it on the hook opposite the one that held the long, black peacoat I'd worn this morning to keep me warm. Those items alone occupied most of the space in the locker, and a part of me wondered how two people managed as I closed the metal, self-locking door.

I sat in the front seat of my pre-calculus class, like I did in most classes where I had a choice in the matter. "Emma!" I blinked and shot my head up from the notes I'd been scrawling when our teacher, Mrs. Webber, broke through my concentration.

"Yes...?" I asked, meekly, wishing that I could have sat in the back so I didn't have to attract so much of the teachers' attention. But, the back rows were always filled with the school socialites, chatting away during lessons. It made it impossible for me to think and go unnoticed at the same time. I chose the former out of necessity.

She nodded down to the notes I was taking, a grin spread across her wrinkled face. "Good work. You're going to be glad you have those to study with, later."

"Th-Thank you." I stammered, feebly, as I resumed taking notes on what she'd written on the board, ducking my head to avoid the looks from the other students in my class.

"Keep at it." She said to me, before turning to the rest of the class, tapping the board with the butt of the dry erase marker she held in her hand as she did. "You should _all_ be paying very close attention. This will be on your midterms."

"Suck up." I heard someone snicker from behind me and it made me want to groan in frustration. If only they knew how much I hated being singled out like that. I pushed the thought away and got a better grip on my pencil as they were shushed into silence and Mrs. Webber got back to the lesson.

"Now, when you're graphing polynomials, there is more than one way to get it done, just like with any math problem. Now, I'm going to show you the long way, and the short way..." The marker made a squeaking noise as she began to jot new notes on the board, thankfully not too quickly for me to keep up.

A few classes later, when the lunch bell rang, I rose from my seat at a relaxed, deliberate pace, gathering up my belongings while the rest of the class rushed out the door.

"Emma, could you stay behind a minute?" My history teacher called out, as I turned towards the door.

I shifted my things in my arms and turned back around, making my way towards the desk. "Yes, Mr. Carson?" I asked, stopping when I'd gotten close.

"When I wrote those letters of recommendation for you last year, you said you were working on an early application. Have you heard back from them yet?"

"No, not yet." I shook my head, although a hopeful smile still adorned my face. With my grades, the SAT scores I'd managed and the letters of recommendation I'd wrangled up, I was sure to get in someplace, even if it wasn't for early application. "But, there's still a lot of time."

I knew could hear back as late as December. Or, March, if I got passed up for early application. Either way, it gave me plenty of time before the end of the school year to work out my financial aid and get everything else in order.

"Well, good luck, then. Be sure to let me know when you do." I nodded, turning and walking out of the classroom, headed towards my locker to retrieve the sandwich and apple I'd packed myself for the mid-day meal.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

I folded my coat over my arm and pulled my hair back into a ponytail as I made my way around the corner from where the bus had dropped me off to my apartment, combatting my body's efforts to break out into a sweat. The pale blue cardigan I had on over a lace-trimmed tank kept kept me exposed enough to help me cool down, even under the unblinking stare of the sun.

This was the way it often was when fall came around in Seattle. You needed a winter coat in the mornings and evenings, but—when it didn't rain—the sun warmed the afternoon temperatures drastically.

I stopped when I reached the front of our building to check the mail, like I did most days of the week. I flipped through the pile of letters casually. There was the usual junk mail, a newspaper, bills, my father's paycheck. But, behind all that was a large, think envelope that caught my attention.

Upon closer inspection, I saw it was from Pacific Lutheran University. I had applied to several safety schools, but this was the application I'd worked hardest on, the essay I'd spend day and night revising, over and over. It was the college whose acceptance I wanted the most.

I clutched the letters in one hand as I made my way up the stairs and up to my apartment, my steps surer and faster than they usually were. My heart pounded in nervous excitement, though, even without opening the envelope, I knew I had to have gotten in. After all, why would they waste so much paper on someone they were only going to reject?

I unlocked the door quickly and stepped inside, dropping my things beside the door less meticulously than I usually would have. I left the rest of the mail on the breakfast bar that divided the kitchen and the living room before tearing open the letter in my hands.

I pulled the pile of papers out of the sleeve and stacked them, leaving the envelope on the counter and focusing my attention on the cover letter that sat on top. My face broke into a smile as I read the first paragraph to myself.

"Dear Emilia Baker, Pacific Lutheran University is delighted to offer you early admission for Fall 2014. Your hard work and determination have earned you a spot in the PLU class of 2018! Congratulations! Since early admission to Pacific Lutheran is a very selective process, you should take pride in this accomplishment."

I grinned to myself, jumping up and down a little in place before I made my way to the bedroom, plopping down onto the twin-sized bed inside to read the rest of the letter and the information enclosed at my leisure. This was it. I'd gotten into college. It wouldn't be long until I left this place, for good.

"Emma!" I heard my father shout, hours later, from the front door, as he walked in and slammed it behind him. From the slur in his voice, I could tell he'd already gotten started for the night.

"I'm in the kitchen." I called out, less loudly, as I pulled the pot roast I'd been cooking out of the oven. "Dinner will be ready soon, if you're hungry." I threw over my shoulder, as his loud, thunking steps lead up to the breakfast bar.

"Mmm." He grunted, noncommittally, shuffling though the papers and letters I'd left out for him as I adsorbed myself in dishing us up a couple of plates. "Bill. Bill. Bill." He muttered to himself as he sorted, like he always did when he was half way in the bottle. "Crap. Bill. Hmmm, paycheck came early this month."

I heard him pause and I froze for a second when I realized I'd left the envelope to my acceptance letter out. I had been planning to tell him, I knew I couldn't get away with keeping it from him, at least not for long. I'd just been hoping to do it on a weekend morning before he'd had a chance to get himself a drink.

"What's this? Pacific Lutheran?" I turned around, the counterfeit smile I'd perfected when I was 14 plastered across my face.

"Yeah, it is. It's down in Tacoma. I applied to a lot of places that are closer, too, that's just the first place I've gotten into. They're offering me a free ride, isn't that great?" Although I was genuinely excited, I had to force the enthusiasm into my voice as I told him. After all, I knew better than to expect the same joy most parents felt when their child got from him.

He made a noise low in this throat, halfway between enthusiasm and indifference and nodded, setting it back down on the counter before taking the plate and the beer I'd offered him. Making his way into the living room, he plopped down on the sofa, hunching over the coffee table as he dug in. Still wary of him, I purposefully choose to take my meal in the chair to the far side of the television.

To my surprise, dinner passed by uneventfully, my father mindlessly occupied with the food and beer he was shoveling into his gullet and the reruns of _Antiques Roadshow_ playing across the screen in front of him.

I cleaned up our dishes and the mess we'd both left in the three foot area in front of the door that we didn't use for much other than coats, shoes and bags before excusing myself to do my homework. Although I'd been given a light load today, I knew taking care of it earlier rather than later was a better idea, especially when everything here seemed to change so quickly.

Later that night, as I lay on my bed studying, I heard a pounding at my bedroom door. I jumped a little when I heard it, snapping the book that I'd been studying from closed and setting it to the side. As my father stumbled through the doorframe of my small, dimly-lit, closet of a bedroom, I opened my mouth to ask him what he wanted, but he beat me to the punch.

"I'm so proud of you, Emma." He said, his voice sloppy and drawn out. I could have sworn I saw tears in his eyes, but with the lights so low I just couldn't be sure. "You're so smart. Just like your mother." He hiccuped a little, covering his mouth as he waited for what looked like a wave of nausea to pass. I waited for it to pass, too, hoping if he threw up he would turn and do it on the linoleum in the hall and not the shaggy carpet in my bedroom.

"Thank you, Dad." I said, softly, hoping that some part of him really meant what he'd said.

When he somehow kept himself from emptying the contents of his stomach all over the floor, I stood from the bed. "Why don't we get you to bed?" I asked, careful to keep my voice soft and soothing to keep from incurring his anger. I grabbed one arm and led him away from my bedroom and into his, knowing that if he stayed standing, he wouldn't be able to control his stomach much longer.

"I love you, Emma." He insisted, as I helped him sit down and moved to take off the shoes he hadn't bothered to kick off at the door. "I do."

"I know, Dad." I said, with a gentle smile, as I rose. I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek like I had when I was a little girl before I left the room, closing the door before I began to clean the living room of the mess he'd made. It was relatively minor compared to the messes he usually left me, just a few beer bottles here and there.

When I returned to my room, I locked the door and allowed myself to collapse down on my bed, glad I'd bothered to change into my pajamas a few minutes earlier so I wouldn't have to get up again. If I was being honest with myself, most of the things I said and did for my father were to placate him than anything else. He wasn't the man he once was. It was hard enough to let myself think that he was what I had left in this world, let alone that he loved me. If he loved me, why would he do this?

I shook my head at the thought, pulling the covers over me and shutting off the reading lamp on my bedside table before I closed my eyes and allowed myself to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

I tried to blink back the tears that stung at my eyes when my father took back every good word he'd said to me last night. I'd known, in the pit of my stomach, that I shouldn't have put any stock in him, that it was the beer talking this time instead of scotch or whiskey. But, I'd believed what I wanted to believe.

"You are nothing! You hear me? Nothing!" I winced at the onslaught, but refused to shed my tears in front of him. I didn't say another word in my defense, knowing it wouldn't mean a thing even if he did remember it in the morning. I turned on my heels and walked away from the verbal assault, slipping on the shoes I'd left by the door and throwing my coat and scarf around myself.

"Where do you think you're going, you ungrateful bitch?! You think you just get to come and go whenever you like? You don't! You're my daughter, if I say you stay, you stay!" I grabbed my purse with my right hand and turned to open the door, my mouth opening in a silent cry of pain when I felt his hand wrap around my left wrist like a vice.

I hadn't realized he'd been so close, so the pain caught me off guard. "What? Nothing to say for yourself?" He squeezed harder, making me cringe, although he couldn't see my face.

"Let me go! I'm leaving!" I whimpered, kicking him in the shin and slipping out of his grip the instant he registered the pain. I shut the door behind me, listening to his swears and curses as I made my way down the steps, stopping to examine my wrist when I didn't hear him coming after me.

"Ouch." I whispered to myself as I flexed my injured hand, pulling the sleeve back over the reddened area that was sure to bruise. It didn't feel like it was sprained or fractured, which had been my biggest fear, given that my bear of a father could throw me over his head on his worse day.

I sighed to myself and went about properly buttoning and tying the knee-length peacoat I'd thrown on before fixing the lilac scarf around my neck so that it sat properly. I found myself swallowing down fresh tears of frustration and turmoil as the silence outside allowed what had happened to really sink in. My father wasn't even my father anymore. He hadn't been for a long time.

"Hey!" I sniffled slightly and raised my head at the familiar voice.

"Jack?" I asked, as I directed my eyes at the cherry red Jeep that had pulled up the the curb, carefully taking a step towards the vehicle. I could see a young woman in the seat beside him, she was equally as beautiful as he was, and looked at me in a sort of awe that I didn't quite understand as Jack stepped out of the car to greet me.

He was dressed more appropriately for the weather tonight, although not by much, wearing a pair of light blue converse, slim-fitting jeans and a a tee shirt and a hoodie with matching logos from a brand I didn't recognize. He smiled warmly at me before he spoke.

"I was hoping you would be out here tonight. I even had Alice bring a coat, in case you got cold, but it looks like you remembered this time."

I glanced behind him to the girl in the car, she was still looking at me, but less overtly than before. "I'm guessing that's Alice?" I asked, gently, as I tucked my hands into my pockets, savoring the warmth the space offered.

"Yeah." He grinned like the cheshire cat as he glanced back at her before returning his gaze to me. "I thought it would be cool if we all hung out a little tonight. I mean, unless you're waiting for someone else."

I held my breath, with the intention of giving myself a moment to think about it, but a loud, crashing noise from inside my apartment made my decision for me.

"No, I'm not waiting for anyone else. What did you have in mind?" I stepped towards the Jeep, cooly, trying not to let my hurry show.

He laughed a little, as he opened up the door to help me inside. "I thought it was going to be way harder than that!" He shut it firmly behind me after I'd buckled in, getting in moment later. "Especially after the other night."

"So, where are we going?" I rephrased, as Jack peeled off onto the road.

"Lake Union Park. It's right down the road from here," Alice began, her head turned back towards me. She turned to Jack after a moment, placing a hand on his thigh that all but confirmed they were an item before speaking to him below her breath, although I could still, just barely, make out the words. "You should slow down."

Although the act of intimacy itself made me a little uncomfortable, I was surprised to find that it didn't make me jealous. Jack was attractive, something I had noticed right away. It was a fact that I don't think any woman alive could ignore. But, I didn't find myself being interested in him, not romantically, at least. Even if I had been, I wouldn't have felt right about it. Alice and Jack just seemed right for each other, in a way I couldn't really put into words. They were a pair.

"Sorry." He mumbled, sheepishly, casting a glance back at me in the rearview mirror before he cooled his heels. I let my body relax a little when we were back down to the speed limit again.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"So you two aren't going to school, you're not working, anything?" I shook my head a little, not being able to imagine a life where I would choose to do that, let alone one where I could.

"Well, we help my brothers out with the business from time to time—but I hate it." Jack made a face as he finished that made me laugh and made Alice lean a little closer into him as we walked a trail along the edge of the water.

"What about you, Emma?" Alice ventured, from her place tucked underneath Jack's right arm. "Jack said something about High School. Do you know what you're going to do afterward? Any plans?"

"College." I said, definitively. "I applied to a whole score of places, but I just got an early acceptance letter in from PLU." I went on when I remembered that they weren't locals and wouldn't know the place from it's initials. "Pacific Lutheran University. They're a private college down in Tacoma. It's just a little ways south from here."

"That's great!" Jack burst out. "Really, that's awesome."

Alice nodded her agreement with a genuine smile. "It is. Do you know what you're going into yet?"

I shook my head a little. "No, not yet. But, that's what college is for, right?" I pulled my hands out of my pockets before turning to Jack, eager to have the spotlight taken off of me. "So, what do you and your brothers do?"

"Well, it's complicated—"

"—What happened to your wrist?" I froze for a second when Alice interrupted Jack, before quickly recovering.

"My wrist?" I asked, furrowing my brow like I didn't know what she was talking about. I glanced down and forced myself to examine it. Luckily, the forming bruise only covered the top of my wrist, like something had fallen on it, instead of the ring I feared my father's hand would leave. I pulled my jacket sleeve down the rest of the way to cover it up, after a moment, shrugging and tucking my hands back into my pockets. "I'm not sure. I bruise really easily and I'm not exactly the most graceful person." I could feel my stomach knotting guiltily as I said the words.

"Oh." She said, quietly, although I got the feeling that she didn't quite believe me, which only made the knot in my stomach tighten. I hated lying. But, what was I supposed to say? It wasn't like there was anything they could do about it. They couldn't fix my father any more than I could. The truth would only incite pity. It wasn't the worst thing you could do to someone—but I didn't want to be pitied. Of course, I didn't want to be dishonest, either.

"So, what it is? Stocks? Patents?" I asked, changing the subject back as I looked over at Jack again.

He answered, but he didn't seem like he'd fully recovered from Alice's inquiry. "Yeah." He said, with less enthusiasm than his voice usually carried. "That's exactly it, actually. There are so many and there's so much paperwork that they need a little help, sometimes. It's not very hard, just time-consuming."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"I wish I didn't have to drop you off so soon." Jack mumbled, pouting openly as he parked in front of my apartment building. "It's only eleven."

"Eleven-_thirty_ on a school night." Alice corrected, almost playfully, turning her head over the seat so she could look at me when she talked. "Don't let him make you feel bad. He should know better."

"It's fine. I'm out this late a lot, anyways." I said, softly. I put my hand on the door in preparation to let myself out, hoping the two hours we'd been gone would be long enough for my father to fall asleep–or settle down, at the very least.

"We should hang out again soon, though!" Jack insisted, getting out of his own door at nearly the same time I got out of mine. I waved my goodbye to Alice when she elected to wait inside the car.

"That would be fun." I said, with a smile on my face, although I couldn't really feel it.

"Do you have a cell phone?" I blinked a little at the question. I'd been turning to head up the steps into my building, but I stopped and faced him again. "It's just, I forgot to ask you last time, and I hate driving by just hoping you'll be out here."

"I... I don't have a cell phone." I answered, honestly. "And, I don't think my father would like it very much if a guy came calling for me late at night."

He nodded a little, seeming to take in the information. "Right. No, you're probably right." He tapped his chin for a second, seeming to think something over before he laughed, boyishly. "Here—Think fast!"

I gasped when he chucked something at me, flinching a little, even as I caught the small object. I recovered a second later, frowning as I flipped the iPhone he'd chucked at me around in my hands. "What is this?" I shook my head a little and held it out to him. "I can't take your phone, Jack, that's ridiculous."

I sighed a little when he held up his hands in mock surrender so he wouldn't be able to catch the item, inching back towards the Jeep with an expression that was all fun and games. "Jack!" I cried out, exasperated.

He laughed a little as he opened the driver door. I could see Alice shaking her head and saying something to him, but he didn't respond to her right away. "Just keep it. I'm not going to let you give it back. I can always go get another one."

I huffed my defeat before putting the item in my pocket, as much as a part of me wanted to chuck it back at him and give him a taste of his own medicine. "Thank you." I murmured, before he closed the door.

He smiled at me, triumphantly, letting me know he'd heard, before he sped off down the street, saying something I could no longer hear over to Alice as I turned away and made my way back up to the apartment.

I was met by a large pile of broken glass beside the door when I returned stepped inside my front door. I swore softly beneath my breath as I maneuvered around it, keeping my shoes on so I wouldn't accidentally cut my feet as I went into the closet to get a broom and a dustpan.

I spent the next twenty minutes trying to gather up every last shard of glass, grateful, for once, that so much of our apartment was floored with vinyl. I found a few pieces that had slid under the couch, and a sliver or two in the shoes my father had sitting by the door, but the mess seemed pretty contained otherwise.

My knees were sore from kneeling when I stood and emptied the last pieces into the trash. I put everything away after that, quietly pressing my ear to my father's door until I heard his snoring before I headed into my own.

I allowed my eyes to shut for a minute after I'd locked the door behind me. I didn't have any homework to worry about tonight—since I'd finished it in class—so I could focus on catching up on my sleep.

Opening my eyes again, I made my way over the the tiny, weathered dresser where I kept most of my clothes. I pulled out a set of mint-colored flannels for bed, changing into them and throwing my dirty clothes into the hamper before I crawled under the covers.

Even with the light out and even with as tired as I was, I didn't drift off right away. I couldn't stop thinking about Jack and Alice. As if on cue, the new phone I'd placed on the nightstand buzzed.

**I picked up a new phone on the way home! Sleep well! -Jack**

I smiled a little, to myself, setting the device in the drawer in my bedside table instead of replying to it. What was I supposed to do with a cell phone? I rolled to face the wall, so that I wasn't tempted to fiddle with the new gadget instead of trying to sleep.

I didn't know how he'd done it, I didn't know why he'd done it, but Jack had gotten under my skin. Alice had, too, in the short time I'd known her, whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not.

A voice in the back of my mind whispered that I shouldn't trust them. I knew I shouldn't let them get close. It was dangerous. Once you trusted someone, they could hurt you. By trusting someone, you were giving them the most dangerous weapon of all, the power to destroy you. But, I did trust them. I wanted to be a part of their lives. A part of me that I couldn't quite place just felt ridiculously comfortable around them both. But, I wasn't just comfortable. I was drawn to them. I wanted to be around them.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

I laughed aloud at the many messages I found on my cell phone when I got home from school. I had decided to leave the item untouched in my nightstand while I went to school, despite the many times it had buzzed throughout the night. They were all from the same number from before, but if I hadn't already known they were from Jack, I could have guessed from the unmistakable energy they exuded.

...**You aren't ignoring me, are you?**

** Alice said you're probably asleep. So, you're probably asleep.**

** You don't have a charger, do you? Did it die? I'll buy you a charger.**

** Wait, I already have a charger! I'll just give it to you next time I see you.**

** Hey, are you up yet?**

** I'm bored. I hate that you have school.**

I smiled a little to myself, tucking the slim contraption into my pocket, promising myself I would write back after I'd finished cooking dinner, despite my earlier reservations.

**What are you doing?**

I glanced at the clock as I sent it. If his late-night messages were any indication, Jack was the kind of guy who slept through the day and stayed out all night. I only hoped my seven-fifteen text was late enough not to wake him.

I jumped when I got a reply almost instantly.

**Hey! I was just playing video games with Milo. You?**

I almost wanted to laugh. Of course. What else would a young, free, rich playboy to do with his time? Well, I guess he had Alice, so he wasn't _really_ a playboy—but still. I guess I just expected him to be doing more with his life. Like playing poker at the Monte Carlo or something. Although, I guess poker was still a game.

**Just finished eating dinner here. Who's Milo?**

I kept my eyes fixed on the door, this time, as I waited for a reply. My father hadn't come home yet. It wasn't unusual for him to have a few drinks at the bar down the street, but staying this late was. It had only happened once or twice, when he'd stumble in after last call, more inebriated than he ever managed to get at home. Not having to pour his own drinks might have had something to do with it.

**Alice's brother. He's a cool guy. You'll like him.**

I didn't quite know what to say to that, so I set the object on the counter, wrapping up the plate I'd made for my father and putting it in the fridge so it wouldn't go bad before doing the dishes. I heard my phone buzz on the laminate countertop, but I waited until my hands were dry to check it again.

**Can you hang out tonight?**

I chewed my lip for a minute, deliberating. Last call wasn't until one or two in the morning, so I knew I could get away with it, as far as my father was concerned, if I only stayed out until eleven or twelve. But, then again, I did have a history paper due tomorrow that I hadn't finished, which would mean I'd have to do it after I came home.

**I shouldn't. School stuff. Sorry.**

I typed out, as painful as it was, after a long minute.

**No, it's okay. Don't be sorry.**

I smiled a little, plaintively, to myself, practically hearing the earnestness in his words. I felt the phone buzz again, after a minute, when I didn't reply right away.

**Really. Don't feel bad. I'll see you soon.**

** Okay. Thanks.**

I kept the metal and glass object in my hand as I made my way into my bedroom, leaving it on the bed and leaving it there as I got ready for bed in the bathroom. Three messages were already waiting for me when I returned to put the finishing touches on my hundred-point paper on the Civil War.

** When is soon?**

** Just wondering.**

** You know what would be fun? Halloween is tomorrow. We could have a scary movie-marathon at my place over the weekend. :)**

Having completely forgotten about the holiday, the news hit me a little by surprise. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd properly celebrated Halloween.

**That does sound fun. No costumes, right?**

** God no!**

** I think Friday might be okay for me. **

I knew I might have problems getting out of the house Friday night if my father came home early—or even if he didn't. But, I could have problems with him any day of the week, whether it was him kicking me out or demanding I stay in. I choose it because I wouldn't have to worry so much about sleep or about school.

**Great. I'll pick you up at 8?**

** I'll be out front then.**

I set the device off to the side when I didn't receive another text right away, pulling out my history binder and flipping it open to my half-written paper. I checked the outline I'd made out and my class notes for reference before I continued writing on it.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"I'm going out now, okay Dad?" I asked, as I left my room and headed for the door, making one last adjustment to the pastel pink blouse I'd tucked into a pair of dark-wash jeans before I pulled my coat over it.

"M'kay." He answered, distantly, around a mouthful of the meatloaf I'd finished eating an hour ago. I slipped my feet into my flats and bustled out the door before he could change his mind, making sure to lock the door behind me.

Jack was already outside, five minutes early, just as I'd been walking down to meet him. I hurried my pace a little as he parked the car, he smiled at me as I approached, but he didn't seem to be in any sort of hurry.

He wasn't driving the Jeep or the sports car this time, but a black Jetta. "How many cars do you have?" I wondered, out loud, hopping into the passenger seat of the vehicle when I saw that he was by himself.

His smile widened at that, putting his hands back up on the wheel as he pulled away from the curb. "This one isn't mine." He went a little faster than I would have liked as we started out, but quickly slowed back down to a more reasonable pace. "The Lamborghini isn't mine either. I just drive them once in a while—when I get the chance. The Lamborghini is Ezra's. He's my oldest brother. This car belongs to Mae, his wife. I probably drive it more than anything else, but she never seems to mind."

"Oh." I said, softly, as I tried to get a general feel for the direction we were headed in. From the looks of things, we were headed northwest towards Queen Anne or Capitol Hill—a far cry from Central Seattle, where I lived. Not that I'd expected anything less of him.

"So, are they all going to be there tonight? Your family?" I struggled to keep my voice from wavering at the words. The thought of meeting them made my stomach feel like someone had tied it up in knots.I fully expected them to be as warm, amiable and charming as Jack and Alice were and the notion made me feel stupidly meek and incompetent in comparison.

"Well, everyone except my other brother, Peter." He quickly glanced over towards me, a touch of apprehension in his eyes that made my heart rate shoot up for a second, although I didn't let him see the uncertainty he'd caused on my face. "But, you'll uh..." He shook his head like he was trying to clear it and his hands gripped the wheel more tightly. "You'll meet him soon."

"They'll all love you, don't worry!" He hurried to say, flashing me his signature smile as we drove into a gated neighborhood at the height of Queen Anne Hill. "Just relax."

I smiled and shook my head a little, sitting back in my seat. "No promises."

He chuckled softly at that, slowing down as he pulled up to what inarguably had to be the nicest house in the community, pulling up in front of the garage before shifting the car into park. "So, what do you think?" He asked as he kept his hands resting on the wheel, his smirk nearing impish proportions.

"I think..." I began, as I let my eyes roam the front of the huge, charcoal-colored, beautifully modernized house. I knew they must have redone it, but was amazed to see that it still maintained many aspects of the architectural style the area was named for. "I mean, it's beautiful..." I floundered for a second, trying to find the right words. "This isn't even a house. It's a mansion." I turned to him, trying to suspend my transfixion with the building that was the stark opposite of everything I'd grown to know. "Do you really live here?"

His grin widened at that. "Yup!" He popped the 'p' playfully, before he slipped out of the vehicle. "Come on, they're waiting for us!"

"Okay." I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly in an attempt to calm my nerves before I stepped out after him, walking the three steps up the front porch and following Jack through the front door. I jumped back a little when he was tackled by a colossal, white dog.

I exhaled softly when he laughed and seemed to welcome the action, reaching up to pet the excited animal. "Matilda! You're such a silly girl!"

"Oh, you're here!" My head turned in the direction of a warm, gentle voice with a hint of a british accent underneath. Rushing towards us was a beautiful, fair woman with warm, honey-blonde hair in a pair of sky-high stilettos clicking gracefully against the hardwood floors. "I'm sorry, I would have held her. I didn't think you would be here so soon."

"She's harmless." Jack soothed from the floor, although, I doubted that was entirely true. I don't know what I would have done if Matilda had pounced on me instead of him. Somehow, he'd managed to get himself out from underneath the lively beast, although he still knelt on the ground, stroking the places behind her ears in a way she seemed to love.

"I'm Mae. You must be Emma. You're just..." She beamed, sizing me up with her eyes, although it didn't make me uncomfortable like I thought it would. "You're just a darling, aren't you?"

I smiled openly in greeting to the beautiful woman. "It's nice to meet you." I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks in embarrassment as she gushed. I shook my head a little as I worked on the tie at my waist and the buttons on my jacket. "I'm not all that, really."

"Don't be silly! You're lovely and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise! Why don't you help her with her coat, Jack?"

At her prompting, Jack sprung back into a standing position. "Right. Sorry." He stepped forward, easing my coat off of me before I could take it off to hand to him.

"Thanks." I said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind one ear as I watched him put the garment in the coat closet off to one side of the door.

"Why don't I give you the tour?" Mae asked, as she began walking backwards to one side of the staircase in front of us. "This is the foyer, of course." I glanced back towards Jack, hoping he would join us, but he seemed to have shifted his focus.

"I'm just going to take Matilda out. I won't be long." He promised, giving me one of his easy smiles. "You'll be fine."

"Okay." I said, a little more tightly than I would have liked. It wasn't that I didn't like Mae, I thought she was wonderful, even though I'd only known her for a few minutes, I just didn't know how comfortable I was yet, being left alone with Jack's family.

I followed Mae into the next room, my flats hardly making a noise against the wooden floors. "This is the living room, where we'll be spending most of the night. There's the fireplace. And the entertainment center."

I let my eyes roam the giant room as we stepped in. Everything about this house seemed grand and magnificent, from the white-bricked fireplace to the cream-colored, button-cushioned sectional.

She pointed down one end of the room, opposite the kitchen. "Down that hall is access to the garage, a powder room, Ezra's office, our bedroom—" Her smile turned into an outright grin when a tall, blonde man made his way out from the hall.

"This is my husband, Ezra." Mae announced proudly, placing a hand on his chest.

"Hello, love." His voice rolled out, much deeper and warmer that Jack's could have ever hoped to be as he kissed his wife's cheek, greeting her first before he turned to me. "If I'm not mistaken, you must be Emma."

I cleared my throat softly. "It's nice to meet you." In my head, I tried to place the accent I could hear in the undertones his voice. It was far more faded than Mae's, but it could just as easily have been English as well, although I couldn't help but think it didn't quite fit.

"The pleasure is ours entirely." He lulled, pleasantly, his gaze on me so wholehearted and warm it made me blush.

"She is just delightful, isn't she?" Mae praised, lighting up like a christmas tree.

"Really, you don't have to say that." I mumbled, blushing harder as I lowered my eyes against their gazes.

I turned towards the door when I heard Jack's hearty laugh, the noise rumbling through me as he entered the room. "I told you—She doesn't like attention."

"Why don't we finish up that tour?" Mae asked, finally drawing herself away from her flawless husband. "Milo and Bobby should be back any minute now."

I glanced back to Jack, and he smiled and answered my question before I had the chance to ask it, almost as if he knew what I was going to say. "Bobby is Milo's boyfriend. Don't worry, you'll like him too."

"I'm not that predictable." I grumbled, as I followed Mae in to the next room, ignoring Jack's subsequent snicker.

"This is the kitchen." She said, as she walked around the island, waving to the french doors to one end of the room. "That's the main door to the back yard. There's a heated pool with a hot tub area and a swim-up bar. It's covered now, but, I think it'll be sublime come summer."

"Come on, I'll show you the upstairs, too." She nodded her head in one direction after a moment and I walked after her until we were back to the entryway. I hiked up the stairs behind her, pausing with her when we reached the landing. A computer and a set of bookshelves filled up one side of the area while a love seat and chess table with cushioned chairs on either end occupied the other.

"I'm not sure what you would call this room." She laughed a little. "You're the first one I've shown the house to since we moved here. It's _almost _a den."

"It's nice." I noted, as we headed down the hall. "When did you move?"

"About a month ago. We just got settled. It would have been sooner, but we had to wait for the renovations." She pointed down one side of the hall. "That's Milo and Bobby's room, then Alice and Jack's, the guest bathroom..."

"I didn't know you were so new to town. I mean, Jack mentioned that you weren't Seattle natives, but you all seem so at home here." I observed quietly, earning myself another smile.

"We feel at home here, certainly." She pointed to the door at the very end of the hall. "There's Peter's room." The statement seemed to hold a special significance to her, but she quickly moved on. "Then we have the guest bedroom and the laundry room on the left. All of the bedrooms have their own bathrooms attached and ours even has a fireplace."

"You have a beautiful home." I remarked, as we made our way back down the stairs.

"Thank you, dear!" She chirped, happily, as she led us back into the living room, leaving the downstairs portion of the house unexplored. I could only assume that was the basement of the house.

"Milo! Bobby!" She cried, greeting the two new young men that sat on the far side of the sofa as we stepped into the room. "Emma, this is Milo and Bobby." She said, gesturing to each of them in turn. "Milo, Bobby, this is Emma."

They were undeniably a couple, with Milo's arm wrapped around the shoulders of the heavily-tattooed man beside him. "Hi." I said, softly, when they both turned to me, not sure what else I should say.

Jack and Ezra emerged from the kitchen moments later, the smell of fresh butter wafting in with them. "I've got popcorn!" Jack announced, as he made his way to the couch, cradling the bowl in his lap and patting the seat beside him, "Come on, Emma! Sit with me!"

I rolled my eyes, but obeyed, keeping a respectable distance between us as I took the place on his left. After a moment, Mae and Ezra joined us, sharing the large ottoman off to the side as Milo stood to put in the movie. Thankfully, they'd forgone a slasher movie and gone with something more mild—at least, I thought it was more mild.

"_Paranormal Activity_?" Jack whined, glancing over at Milo as he put the disc into the DVD player. "I thought we were going to watch _The Lost Boys_?"

"It's a good movie. Give it a chance." I whispered over to him, eating a few pieces of popcorn and letting him sulk for a moment before I continued. "So, I guess Alice isn't coming?"

He shook his head a little, although his eyes stayed fixed on the screen as Milo navigated his way through the menu, starting up the film. "Sorry, she got busy."

I nodded a little to show I understood, not wanting to raise my voice now that the movie had started.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"Oh, my goodness." I whispered below my breath, as the screen cut to black, the film had nearly the same affect on the as it had the first time I'd watched it.

"I've got goosebumps." Bobby announced in the same moment that Ezra stood to turn the lights back on, rubbing up and down his bare arms to try to rid himself of the phenomenon.

The bowl of popcorn that Jack had passed me a few minutes after the beginning credits was still nearly full. I'd basically been the only one who'd had any, except Bobby, which explained why the rest of them were so thin. I took it off my lap and set it on the coffee table so I could stand and stretch my stiff limbs.

"You're right, it wasn't so bad." Jack admitted, smirking over at me as he rose from the couch as well. "But, ghosts aren't really my thing."

"And vampires are?" I shook my head a little at him in disbelief at the grin that stayed plastered across his face. "The only thing that could be cheesier than that is werewolves."

I blinked a little, trying to adjust my eyes to the lights after Ezra had turned them back up, although Jack didn't seem to have the same problem.

"What, so you don't believe in that sort of thing?" He continued. I caught Ezra giving him a look out of the corner of his eye but, whatever it pertained to, he seemed to ignore it. "You don't think it's possible?"

I shook my head at him. "No, not really," I stated, flatly, despite the colloquial smile I wore. "But I'll let you know if I see one."

He moved to say something else, but Ezra beat him to the punch. "It's getting late. Would you mind if I drove you, Emma?"

"But—" Jack began, but I shook my head at him once I'd caught a glimpse of the clock.

"He's right. I should be heading home." I grabbed his arm momentarily and squeezed comfortingly, the action feeling natural despite the way I usually avoided that kind of contact. "I'll see you later."

Ezra nodded and began to walk out towards the entryway, his voice as friendly as ever. "I'll be waiting out front once you've said goodbye."

"I really wish you could stay later." Jack said, sourly, as Ezra headed out towards the garage.

Mae smiled, encouragingly as she made her way in our direction. "She'll be back soon enough, won't you?" She looked like she might throw her arms around me for a second before thinking better of it and hooking an arm around Jack. "It's been so great meeting you."

Milo shot me a light-hearted look as he picked up the bowl of popcorn and made his way towards the kitchen with Bobby. "Just say you'll come back. She won't let you go until you do."

Mae glowered slightly back at them and I couldn't help but laugh along with Jack when their relaxed walk towards the kitchen became a dash. "I'll come back, as long as you'll have me." I promised.

"Oh, you're always welcome here, Emma!" Mae declared, emphatically.

Jack saved me from having to respond by ducking his way out of his sister-in-law's grip and jogging towards the door. "Come on, you should get going. Let's get your coat."

"Bye." I said, bringing my hand up briefly to wave to the woman in front of me before turning and following after Jack.

"You did have fun tonight, didn't you?" He asked as I walked up, already holding my coat.

He passed me the garment and I pulled it on over my clothes, working on fastening it closed as I answered him. "I wasn't sure if I was going to, but... I did." I found myself saying, without much effort. "I thought it would be..." I trailed off, shaking my head a little, after a minute. "I don't know what I thought. But, it was nice. The movie took a little of the pressure off, I guess. I... You've probably noticed that I'm not always the best with people."

He smiled smugly at that, like he was privy to some secret I didn't know yet. "You're better than you think. I'm glad you had fun." He glanced at the door behind me, his expression becoming bittersweet. "I'll see you soon, right? I haven't scared you off yet?"

"It'll take a lot more than that to scare me." I said, with more daring than I actually felt. I opened the door and stepped out, not missing the way he bit his fist like he was trying not to say something as I opened the door.

The Jetta was still outside and beside it another black vehicle sat running, a Lexus that Ezra must have pulled out of the garage. I made my way over to the vehicle quickly, but without running. I knew the soles of my shoes wouldn't stand up to the unexpected patches of frost that popped up at night this time of year.

"Sorry." I said, faintly, as I hopped into the car, closing myself in and going for my seatbelt before I thought to do anything else. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"Don't be silly." He assured, as he dropped the car into reverse and began pulling out of the driveway. "I don't mind at all."

"Thank you for having me. I really did have a good time." I said, shortly, as we headed out of the gates and onto the highway, headed southeast, towards home. "Did Jack tell you where I live?"

"He gave me an approximate. I'll let you know when I need directions." He said smoothly, seemingly having an easy time navigating the road while focusing his attention on me. "It really was a delight to meet you tonight, Emma. Although, I do wish we could have talked more."

I opened my mouth to apologize, but he raised a hand from the wheel to stop me before I could. "Don't apologize, please. We have plenty of time to get to know each other in the future. I know I can't expect everyone to be as outgoing as Jack and Mae are. I meant to say that I hope we have the time to become acquainted in the future."

"I would like that." I said lowly, glad that he wasn't pressing the subject further.

"Where is it from here?" He asked, as he got off the exit that led to my neighborhood.

"Okay..." I looked around, getting my bearings for a minute before I answered. "You can keep straight for a few blocks. When you see the 7-11, take the first right after the light. It should be right there, across the street from the strip with the 24-hour diner and the laundromat. Building A is the first one on the right."

He nodded his head minutely understanding. "I can do that." He glanced over at me again, almost appraising me for the first time. "Did you grow up here, Emma?"

"In Seattle, yes. We used to have a house up on Ballard, when I was a kid." My throat constricted a little around the words and I found myself wondering why I'd said them at all.

"What happened?"

"I—" I shook my head, as we pulled up. "I don't like to talk about it. It's in the past, anyways."

I winced a little at the banging and yelling that could be heard from my apartment, knowing that it meant not only that my father was awake and drunk, but also that he wasn't very happy about it.

"Is that coming from your apartment?" Ezra asked from beside me, concern in his eyes.

"Yeah." I said softly, after a moment, looking away. I knew I would have to lie to him and I couldn't quite look him in the eyes as I did it. "My Dad's probably just watching the Seahawks match from last week. He always gets riled up like that when he watches a game."

I was already reaching out to open up the door when he put a hand on mine. It wasn't until he did that I realized mine were shaking. "You don't have to go in there, Emma."

"It's the weekend. If I'm not there in the morning... It'll just make it worse. I have to go." I said, tightly, without revealing any more than I had to.

He appeared to think over my words for a moment before pulling his hand from mine, although, from his expression, it seemed like it wasn't an action he was happy to take. "We'll drive around for a little while longer, then. Give him some time to calm down."

I sighed and nodded, gratefully, sinking back into the plush, comfortable seat as he put the car in gear and turned it back onto the street.

"Do you have any siblings?" He began, as we started circling the block. "Jack didn't say much about your family."

"It's just me and my Dad." I replied, fiddling with the cuff of my jacket as I briefly thought about my deceased mother and how differently my life would have turned out if she'd been around.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Ezra responded, looking nothing but genuinely contrite.

I shook my head as we started to loop around for a second time. "Don't apologize. It... Happened a long time ago."

He looked like he might inquire further for an instant, but quickly changed his mind. "Things seem to have settled." He observed, as we pulled up to the now-silent structure.

"Thank you for the ride, Ezra." I rang out, as my hand went for the door handle once more. This time, thankfully, without shaking.

"It was a pleasure." He asserted, giving me a comforting look as I began to step out of the vehicle. "You have my number, in the phone Jack gave you. Don't be afraid to call me—for anything."

"I won't." I breathed, before closing the door between us and making my way inside.

I could help but grin when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket as I walked through the front door, knowing it meant that Jack already missed me. Not that I liked Jack, at least, not in that way. The attraction I felt to him wasn't romantic or physical. In a way, he almost felt like the brother I'd never had, but even that wasn't quite accurate.

**Did you get home okay?**

I smirked as I read over the message, typing a response back before I slid out of my shoes.

**I got home fine. Ezra's a safe driver. Unlike some people I know. ;)**

** Now, that's just hitting below the belt.**

I laughed softly out loud, muffling the noise behind my hand before I slid the device back in my pocket.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

I blinked my eyes open when I heard things being shuffled around in the kitchen and groaned as I caught sight of the clock. I couldn't believe it was already noon. Had I really slept in so late? I drug my feet to one end of the bed and forced myself to stand and stretch, knowing I shouldn't put it off much longer.

"Emilia, where are the eggs?!" I heard my father yell, from the living room, as the refrigerator door slammed shut.

"I used the last of them in the meatloaf." I called back, making the bed like I always did first thing. "I have to go to the grocery store today. Sorry."

I only heard him grunt in response, so I didn't say anything further. I left him to his own devices as I showered and got ready for the day. I ended up eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen bar when I discovered we were also out of bread and fruit, my usual breakfast staples.

I was already going over the bills and his paycheck to make sure we could cover everything we needed to this month when he came out of his bedroom in his overalls. "I got a call from Mike. We're going to open up the shop today. We need the business. Be good."

I held up my hand momentarily to stop him, quickly chewing the last bite of my cereal so I wouldn't have to talk with my mouth full as he paused. "You have to endorse this before you go or I won't be able to deposit it." I reminded him, flipping over his pay stub and holding out a pen.

He hastily stepped forwards and scrawled out his signature, along with a note that made it payable to me before grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

"Thank you!" I called after him, as the door closed with a bang. After he'd gone, I took my dishes to the sink and washed them, knowing better than to leave a mess. As I stood to get ready to go to the bank, I checked my phone for messages, wincing when I saw how low the battery had gotten.

**Good morning, sunshine! **

** I forgot to give you that power cord yesterday. I hope your phone hasn't died yet. Text me when you get this.**

Both messages were from Jack from around six this morning and I wondered for a second if he'd forgotten which day of the week it was. Just as I began to type a reply, the screen went black and I sighed, putting the now useless device back into my pocket to worry about later.

"Bank, post office, grocery store." I chanted to myself, as I gathered everything, so I wouldn't forget anything I needed for each errand, knowing the bus ride either way would be nearly forty minutes each way

I made sure to put on my white tennies in lieu of my usual flats, knowing that the walk to and from the bus stop would be grueling without arch support. Even standing for as long as I had to on the bus—as I was often left doing—just wasn't as practical in any other pair of shoes.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The plastic of the many grocery bags I was carrying cut into my wrists and fingers as I walked my way back to the bus stop from the exit of the QFC I always did our food shopping at. I kept my gaze ahead as I reached the bench, knowing better that to make eye contact with the scraggly, dirt-ridden man who had lounged out on it.

I adjusted the weight of the bags I held when the bus pulled up in front of us a minute later. "Hello." I greeted the driver, cordially, after the doors were opened for me. Stepping up the stairs into the vehicle, I dug into my right pocket for the fare I'd set aside earlier.

My hands were full, so it took a minute, but I put everything in it's designated slot, smiling briefly as the driver nodded the okay for to me to move further inside. Luckily there was an empty seat on the bus that I was able to take before it began to move. I was careful not to let my bags bother the people sitting next to me on either side as I slid into it.

The twelve minute ride was a quiet one, aside from the soft dings that alerted the passengers to an upcoming stop and the hum of late-afternoon traffic around us. I stood when we reached my designated stop, belatedly wishing my father hadn't had work today so I could have borrowed his car for the trip as the bags I held continued to take their toll on my hands.

"Thank you." I threw over my shoulder, as I took the two foot leap from the last step of the bus and the sidewalk.

I knew when I got home that I'd beat my father there. His old, beat-up Corolla wasn't parked in the lot down the street that our building dared to call 'private parking'. With that knowledge, I let myself leave my shoes, coat, and purse haphazardly by the door so I could put away the groceries I'd brought home that much sooner.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

I frowned, my head shooting toward the door when a knock came at it at seven sharp. "Didn't you take care of the rent?" My dad grumbled from his place parked on the couch, sipping on his first beer since he'd walked in the door.

"Don't worry about it, Dad. I'll get it." I called from the kitchen, as I quickly opened the oven door to make sure the chicken wouldn't burn while I was away. It looked like it could use a few more minutes, so I left it on as I made my way to the door, furrowing my brow when I saw Jack waiting patiently through the peephole.

"Well, who is it?" He barked, unhappily.

"Just a friend." I stated, innocently, as I unlocked and opened the door. "I'll just be a minute."

"Alright." He consented. "Just don't burn supper."

"I won't." I promised, as I stepped outside, not minding the fact that I didn't have any shoes, since my socks helped cushion my feet from the cold of the cement hallway. I smiled at him as I closed the door behind me, giving us at least a little privacy. "Hey."

"Hey, there." He grinned, charmingly at me. "I'm glad this one was your apartment. Your neighbors weren't very happy when I bothered them."

I wrinkled my nose a little at the thought of the meth-addicts that lived one door over from us. "Yeah, they aren't very nice. Sorry about that. So, what are you doing here? I can't really hang out right now. I'm about to have dinner with my Dad."

"Well, I couldn't call or text you and it was driving me crazy, so I decided to bring you... This." I smiled a little when he pulled what was unmistakably a charger for the phone he'd given me.

"Oh." I laughed a little, taking the coiled item from him and tucking it carefully into my pocket. "Thanks."

"So, you're busy tonight. I get that. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow? Before you have to go back to school?"

I nibbled on my bottom lip a little, guiltily. "I wish I could..."

He groaned a little. "Come on!"

"I can't help it." I sighed, helplessly. "I don't have a social life. I do things on the weekend. I'll probably be up all night at the laundromat. We're really backed up on laundry." I crossed my arms over my chest when the cold air began to get to me, looking at him plaintively. "Are you really mad?"

He shook his head after a minute, looking wistful. "No. No, I'm not mad."

"I really am sorry." I insisted.

"No, no, don't be. Would you mind if I tagged along tomorrow? To the laundromat? I mean, it's not my forte, but I can fold clothes."

"I mean, if you really want to." I said, shrugging. "It's not going to be very fun."

"Emilia! Don't forget about that chicken!" My father yelled, making me wince a little.

"I haven't!" I called back, before turning back to Jack. "Sorry. I should go. I'll text you when I can, okay?"

"Okay." He said softly, staying in place, watching after me even as I stepped back into the apartment and closed the door.

"Who was that?" My father asked, as I clicked the deadbolt into place.

"Just a friend." I repeated as I turned into the kitchen, already knowing he wouldn't approve. "I should go check on dinner."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The bell attached to the inside of the door made it jingle, catching my attention as Jack walked in. I paused in my folding and smiled at him as his eyes found me and he made his way over to the machines I was watching.

"Hi." I said, softly, as he leaned against a washer loaded full of whites.

"You started without me?" He teased, crossing his arms over his chest in mock complaint. "That's so lame."

"You were late!" I exclaimed with a laugh, picking back up the shirt I'd set down and folding it properly. "I kind of still can't believe you showed up at all. You seem a little too cool for laundry."

"Never too cool to hang out with you." He winked, playfully, at me as he popped up to a fully erect position. "Now, what do you want me to do?"

"You want to do something?" I replied, bewilderedly. "Well, uh, I guess I could use some help with these towels?" I said, nodding to the basket I'd taken out of the dryer mere minutes ago.

"Great! Just show me how you do them."

"Sure." I chirped, gabbing one and holding it out lengthwise to demonstrate. "You hold it out like this, then you fold it in half, then again..." I detailed, as I folded the towel in half twice 'hamburger' style. "After that, you take it in thirds the other way. Once you get going, it goes pretty quickly."

He nodded. "Looks easy enough." He picked up another one of the towels out of the basket, easily replacing my movements and stacking it on top of mine, creating a pile. "There."

"Wow. You're actually really good at that." I tossed him another before grabbing one of my own, careful to keep the absorbent items in stacks of three so they wouldn't topple over and undo the work we'd already done.

"You're a lot better at it than I am." He said, dismissively, as he grabbed the last towel out of the basket and finishing off the batch. "So, why didn't you introduce me to your Dad yesterday?"

"Oh. That." I mumbled, as I put the towels into the basket we'd just emptied. "I hope you didn't take it personally." I sighed a little, opening a buzzing dryer and emptying the jeans inside into my basket as I tried to explain it. "My family just... My family isn't like yours. He's not a very nice guy. You wouldn't like him and he doesn't like_ anyone_."

"That's a shame. I was looking forward to charming your relatives." Jack flashed me smile, closing the door of the appliance behind me as I made my way back to the folding table.

"Sorry." I added, remorsefully.

He shook his head a little at me, refusing to accept my apology. "Forget about it."

"Okay." I agreed, reluctantly.

"So, when can you hang out this week?" He asked, taking a pair of jeans out of the basket after he'd watched me fold a pair, copying my technique perfectly.

My hands moved a little slower than I would have ordinarily liked as I went over my week. "Well, I can't do Monday. And there are three different tests Tuesday that I have to study for. Somehow, my teachers got the idea into their heads that giving us a few extra tests instead of one big one when the semester ends was kinder."

He chortled a little at that. "You don't sound very happy about that."

"I'm not." I said evenly. "I'm good at midterms and finals. I actually _like_ getting it all done at once. But, whatever." I shrugged, putting the last pair back into the basket after I'd finished with them.

"So, what about Tuesday?" He asked, seconds before the last washing machine loads went off.

I bent down with a hamper so I could transfer it into the dryer in one trip. "You know, I think that might work. After a test, I usually get a break on homework. What do you want to do?"

"Well, my other brother, Peter, is back in town tomorrow night. I was thinking we could go to my place again. You could meet him and we could all hang out."

"You sure have a big family." I commented, as I put the whites in the dryer and set the timer to the correct settings. I counted them off as I put in the quarters. "There's Alice, Mae, Ezra, Milo, and Bobby. Is Peter the last of them? I feel like I'm only a few members away from loosing track."

He chuckled. "I know, I know. There are a lot of us."

"No kidding." I mumbled, as I made my way back over to him, laughing a little myself when he pulled himself up onto a machine so he could sit instead of finding a chair.

"So I have a big family? I mean, we're happy that way. And you like them, don't you?" He asked, cocking his head at me.

I shook my head a little, leaning against the washer beside him instead of joining him on it. "You know I do. They're all wonderful people."

"So, the more the merrier, right?" He said, like it was really that simple.

"I guess I'm just not used to the whole big family thing." I added, after a minute.

"It takes a little getting used to." He looked around, after a minute. "So, where are the rest of your clothes?"

I smirked a little, at what I'd been able to accomplish in the two hours I'd spent wondering if he was going to show up or not. "I got started early, so I guess I won't be here all night after all." I saw his face light up and I elaborated before he could ask. "But, that doesn't mean I can hang out. I still have to put everything away once I get home."

"S'okay." He said, although he was visibly disappointed. "So, tell me what you did this weekend."

"It's boring, really—" I began, only to be cut off by him.

"—I'm sure it's not as bad as you think. Just tell me. And, if you bore me, then I was the one who asked for it, right?"

"Well... Okay, then." I started, slowly. "Yesterday, I went to the bank, the post office, and the grocery store."

"By yourself?" Jack queried, at the casual way I spoke about my bi-monthly routine.

"Well, yes." I said, shaking my head a little to get back on track. "Then, today, I cleaned the apartment and took care of my homework before I came here."

"You're all grown up, aren't you?" He announced, looking down at me in a way I could only describe as admiration.

"I don't know if that's true." I blushed and cleared my throat, looking away to watch the whites as they rolled about in the dryer. "Stop looking at me like that." I muttered, timidly, crossing my arms over my chest.

He laughed, loudly, shaking his head. "You're something, all right."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Tuesday came before I knew it. As I'd predicted, the tests my classes had been given warranted a break from our usual homework load, so I didn't have to disappoint Jack when he texted me around seven-thirty, telling me he was out front.

**I'll be down in a minute.**

After the message was sent, I made my way to the door and slipped into my shoes before throwing my jacket over my shoulders. "Dad, I'm going out!" I called over the sounds of _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ that rumbled through out living room, my hand already gripping the doorknob.

"Mhmm." He mumbled, disinterested, turning up the volume.

Taking that as my cue, I snatched up my purse and slipped out, careful to lock the door behind me. Knowing Jack was already waiting for me, I hustled down the stairs. He was sitting in Mae's car again, alone. He didn't seem to notice me at first, bobbing his head to music turned up so loud I could hear it from the bottom steps even with the windows rolled up. I knew it was latin, maybe salsa, but I was too unfamiliar with the genre to know for sure.

"That's a little loud, isn't it?" I murmured, more to myself than anyone else, as I got close. He seemed to notice me then, although he must have spotted me through the edge of his vision, because there was no way he could have heard me. He stopped the music and rolled down his window, plastering his usual, winning smile across his face.

"Get in already. It's cold out."

"Right." I returned his warm expression as I made my way around the vehicle, slipping into the passenger seat. "You're early. I thought you were going to come at eight."

"I was ready to wait." He said, passively, nodding to the radio. "Why do you think I had it cranked up like that?"

"Because you'd like to be deaf when you're forty?" I joked, lightly.

There must have been something especially funny about my comment, because he chuckled, then began howling with laughter.

"It wasn't really supposed to be that funny." I breathed, a little exasperated by whatever it was that I wasn't getting.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, as he caught his breath, chuckling slightly and shaking his head. "Sorry. Inside joke."

"No, it's fine." I said, slowly, not really understanding, but not wanting to push the issue further. After all, it was just a stupid joke, wasn't it?

It didn't take us long to get to the house, especially with the way Jack liked to push the speed limit. I wasn't exactly comfortable with it, but I didn't really feel unsafe with him, for some reason, and I knew he could afford the ticket on the off chance we were pulled over.

We pulled into the garage this time, so I hung my coat and purse up on the rack that hung on the wall beside the door, revealing the simple long-sleeved shirt and jeans I'd chosen for the day. I followed Jack around the corner into the living room, glad we hadn't had to hassle with the coat closet the way we were forced to before.

When we walked in, Ezra and Mae were having a hushed conversation with a man I'd never seen before, but it ceased immediately upon out entry. They all turned toward us, but I couldn't help the way my eyes landed on him. If Jack and Ezra were handsome, then he was absolutely stunning. Beautiful, even. I'd never used the term to describe a man before, but it fit perfectly.

"Emma, this is Peter. Peter, Emma." Jack announced, his eyes shifting between Peter and I, but I could hardly take my eyes off of Peter long enough to notice.

"Hi." I forced out, breathlessly, the syllable taking much more effort than it usually would have. I tried to ignore the rampant beating of my heart and the way my lungs burned for air–because I'd stopped breathing–as Peter's emerald eyes locked on my blue-violet ones. He had literally taken my breath away.

Peter stared at me, his eyes full of fire and his mouth hanging open in a way that made me ache, for what felt like an eternity, before shooting daggers in Jack's direction. "Excuse me." He gritted out, his voice making my shudder as he stormed past both Jack and I and out of the room. I could hear the pounding of his feet as he went of the stairs and the slamming of his bedroom door in the silence that followed.

"Hey." I blinked when I felt Jack's hand on my shoulder, drawing me out of whatever spell Peter had put me under. "Are you okay?"

I sucked in a trembling breath to quell my lung's need for air and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" My voice shook and I still didn't quite understand what had happened, but I just couldn't find any other words to say.

"I'll go talk to him." Ezra stated, giving his wife a peck on the cheek and striding out of the room after Peter.

"You don't have to—" I began, but he was already gone by the time I'd gotten the words out.

"Why don't I get you something to drink, dear?" Mae announced more than asked, bounding into the kitchen before I'd had a chance to protest.

I turned to Jack after a long moment, my brain still reeling. "Did I... Do something wrong?"

"No!" He shook his head, firmly, before repeating himself. "No. You didn't do anything wrong. Peter's just being a bast—"

"Jack Townsend!" Mae called, disapprovingly, from the kitchen. "Watch your language! She is a lady! Show some respect!" Jack rolled his eyes at the tone in her voice.

I smiled a little, at that and it seemed to put him at ease. In no time, he was smiling at me in return. "Come on, let's get you that drink."

Mae was bustling about the kitchen when we walked in, a mug of hot chocolate already sitting in wait for me on the island.

"What's all this?" I asked, as I took a seat, cradling the heated cup in my hands and blowing on the steaming liquid to help bring its temperature down.

"Oh, I thought I might make you a little something to eat, too." She grinned, bashfully as she started to boil a pot of water. "You do like pasta, don't you?"

"I do..." I glanced between her and Jack carefully, silently asking him for help. I didn't want to crush her spirits, but I didn't want her to waster food on me, either. He shrugged, helplessly in return. "I kind of ate before I came, though."

"Nonsense!" She buzzed, as she began searching the cabinets for something. "Now, where did I put that box?"

I opened my mouth to say more, but stopped short of it when Ezra walked into the kitchen, alone. "He's not quite feeling up to visitors tonight." He placated, as he lingered in the large, arched doorway.

Mae pursed her lips, frowning as she poured the bow-tie pasta she'd apparently been looking for into the now-boiling water. "That's a shame."

"That's bullshit!" Jack cried, slamming a fist down on the island, startling me into dropping the mug I held. The porcelain broke with a shattering sound that echoed across the walls, spilling hot chocolate all over the counter and my hands.

"Ah! Sorry!" I jumped up without hesitation, but before I could start cleaning, Mae was already on it with a wad of paper towels. I barely had time to blink before Ezra led me to the sink to put my hands under cold water. I avoided his gaze as he helped me push up me sleeves a little to get them out of the way before he guided my hands into the freezing water, revealing the fading bruise on my wrist. If he noticed it, he didn't show it.

"Just keep them under for a while." He lulled, soothingly, as his wife easily picked up the mess I'd made. "You're lucky you didn't cut yourself."

Jack huffed and stalked into the corner, hanging back from the scene and casting me a look of apology, although I barely had time to catch it before Peter came walking into the room, a look of concern on his face as he watched me.

"Is she alright?" He asked Ezra, seriously, though his gaze stayed fixed on me. I tried to tell myself it wasn't, but the way he spoke about me, like I wasn't even in the room, felt intensely personal.

"She's fine." He replied slowly, his stance careful as he stood between us.

It took all my strength to look away from him and pull my nearly numb hands out of the freezing water, drying them with the hand towel Ezra held out for me. "Sorry, I'm such a klutz sometimes." I whispered, with the little air I had left in my lungs thanks to Peter's reappearance.

"Don't be silly, honey." Mae admonished, moving forward towards me and pulling me into a side hug.

I knew the gesture was meant to be comforting, but I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Everyone was was so kind, so caring–I didn't know what to make of it. What to do with it. I could still feel the weight of Peter's gaze on me, watching. The combination of the two made me feel short of breath and sick to my stomach.

"I..." I closed my eyes, for a second, as the thumping of my heart in my chest became painful, forgetting what it was that I'd been planning to say.

Mae pulled away, slightly, worry written across her features as she rubbed my back in circles. "Are you alright, dear? You look a little pale."

"No, actually," I shook my head a little. "I... Don't feel so well. Excuse me." I stepped away, unable to avoid Peter's piercing green orbs as I walked past him. He looked outright distressed and the expression made me want to stop, to reassure him, but I fought the urge, picking up my pace as I passed him and continuing my way toward the bathroom.

I could hear Jack speaking up, his voice echoing through the house long before I'd reached my destined door. "I told you guys she doesn't like attention! You're smothering her!"

"She could have been seriously hurt because of you. You don't get to talk to them like that." Peter cut in, harshly, the cold tone of his rich voice making my heart palpitate.

"Like you even care!" Jack jabbed. I closed the bathroom door as soon as I'd stepped inside, not wanting to be privy to any more of the conversation.

I exhaled shakily as I made my way to the basin in the beautiful, all-white bathroom, bracing my hands on either side of it as I fought to catch my breath and steady myself. What was wrong with me?


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

When I returned from the bathroom, things were eerily quiet. The living room was empty and the kitchen looked to be abandoned, as well, as I walked towards it. "Hello?" I called out, beginning to wonder if I'd taken a little too much time to collect myself.

My head snapped to the sole occupant of the kitchen as I walked through the archway. Peter was seated to the far left end of the island, so he'd been shielded from my earlier vantage point. He looked at me intently as I approached, my feet carrying me to the stool beside him more or less automatically.

"Where is everyone?" I asked him, softly, unable to tear my eyes from his perfect face.

"Jack's in the garage, waiting to take you home. Mae and Ezra... Are in the den, upstairs. They needed a minute." He said, his voice much more casual than the attentive way he looked at me.

"Oh." I answered, rather stupidly.

He sighed softly as his eyes traced the panes of my face. "Jack shouldn't have brought you here to meet me. I'm..." He paused for a minute. "I'm not very good with people."

"It's okay. Neither am I. Obviously." I laughed a little and he joined me, for just a second, and everything in me tingled with elation at the rumbling noise.

"You're not as bad as you think." His gaze intensified, meaningfully, and I knew there was a hidden depth to his words that I wasn't understanding.

"Neither are you." I whispered, not allowing the change in his demeanor to deter me. "I like you."

Peter's eyes darkened at that, as he reached out a hand to stroke my cheek. I closed my eyes instantly at the warm, soft touch. As soon as it made contact with my skin, it sent a surge of what I could only describe as pure pleasure through my being. Just as soon as it had come, the wonderful caress had gone. The loss of the touch was almost painful.

"You should go." He urged, his voice suddenly tight. "Jack's waiting."

"Right." I answered, quietly fighting back tears as I forced my body to stand.

"Goodbye, Emma." He whispered, not moving from his spot. I swallowed when he said my name, even as strained as his voice was, it sounded like music coming from his lips.

"Bye." Was all I could manage, as I forced myself from the room.

I snatched up my coat and purse on my way into the garage, quickly slipping into the Jetta Jack had been waiting for me in.

"Hey, I'm sorry about all of that. Are you okay?" He asked, clearly apprehensive when I didn't buckle in my seatbelt right away.

I shook my head, clapping my hand over my mouth as an unwitting sob rolled off of my chest. "Just take me home." I murmured, turning my head away from him as the tears began to roll. "Please, please. I don't want Mae to see me like this." The truth was, I didn't want anyone to see me like this. I didn't want him to see me like this, but that couldn't be helped.

"Okay! Okay, we're going!" He cried, clearly panicked. I would have laughed if I wasn't already wailing.

He squealed out of the garage and I didn't even mind the speed or recklessness of the act, as long as it meant we were on the road that much sooner. Instead of driving me home, we pulled over after a few minutes.

"W-W-What are you doing?" I sniffled. My tears had calmed from the hysterics they'd started as, but I wasn't anywhere near back to normal yet. And I didn't even know why.

"I'm not taking you home like this." He said, firmly, as he pulled up the armrest between us and scooted closer. "I'm your friend, okay, Em? I'm here for you." With that, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in towards his chest. "I'm sorry about today. I... I thought it would be different."

I wiped at my eyes for what felt like the millionth time as I relaxed against him, not wanting to soak his shirt while I let him hold me. "How did you think it would be different?" I asked, my voice croaking a little.

"Well..." He started out serious, but his tone quickly became wry. "I didn't think Peter would be such an ass, for one."

I laughed, softly, before shaking my head against him. "I don't think he's so bad. I just don't understand him." My voice had gotten soft and my tears had stopped completely.

"He... He isn't always like that." He exhaled, softly, resting his chin on the top of my head.

"You're heart is beating _really_ slowly, Jack." I realized, as I listened to it. "Are you okay? You're not dying on me, are you?" I asked, lifting my head to meet his eyes, suddenly feeling petrified of the possibility.

"I'm okay!" He smiled, warmly at me as his arms squeezed me back towards him. "I'm okay, I promise. Better than okay. That's just the way my heart beats. Didn't know you cared so much, Em."

I found myself chuckling a little, both in relief and at the new nickname he'd decided to bestow on me. "Really, isn't Emma short enough?"

"Would you rather I called you Emilia?" He teased, obviously remembering the night he'd stopped by unannounced.

"No, not really." I answered, my joking tone quickly vanishing.

"Why not?" He asked, more seriously.

"I just... Don't like it."

My father insisted on calling me it because it was a family name, because it was the one he gave to me. But, whenever anyone called me that, it didn't feel right. It wasn't my name. My name was Emma. That was who I was.

"Okay." He whispered in return.

We sat there for several long minutes, in a comfortable silence. Jack just held me, and I felt remarkably safe, almost untouchable, in his grasp. We could have sat like there for hours, and I might not have noticed, except for the lit-up digital clock on the car's dashboard. "It's getting late." He began, with a tone that let me know how much he hated it. "I should get you home."

"Okay." I whispered, as we pulled away from one another. I didn't want to go back, but I knew there was no other option. I couldn't just stay out all night. Even if it wasn't for my father, I still had school in the morning.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

It was earlier than I had been coming home lately and I knew my father might still be awake. As I stepped inside, I noticed he wasn't on the couch and my eyes swept the space for any sign of him. He stood off to one side of the living room, holding the blinds open so he could stare down at the street below.

"So, that's what you've been up to."

Instantly, I tensed. "What are you talking about?"

He spun around to face me. "You know exactly what I'm talking about! The boy you've been out with, all these nights. Go on, call me a lair, when I just watched you get out of his car." His voice seemed steady and calm, but the look in his eyes was wild. I could tell from the bottles and glasses clustered on the table that he hadn't stopped at the beer I'd seen him open on my way out. A shiver ran down my spine as he began to approach me.

"He's just a friend." I tried to assure him, fighting to keep my voice from trembling. For each step he took towards me, I took one back towards my room, trying to retreat. It was too late to run for the door, now. I just had to get to my room. I just had to lock the door.

"'Just a friend', huh?" He took another step towards me, then another. I stepped back again, and again. I knew soon enough that I wan't going to have another step back to take. Slowly, but surely, he was cornering me. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Yes, dad, he's just a friend!" I insisted, feeling my entire body tense as my back finally hit my bedroom door. I groped for the door handle, I knew opening it would probably be a vain effort, but I had to try anyways.

"The hell he is!" I had nowhere to run as he suddenly began to shout, pressing his face closer to mine. I flinched in fear, despite my best efforts. "Coming here to pick you up, late at night! You think I'm stupid or something?! You think I don't know what's going on in my own house?!"

"P-Please, Dad. It's not what you think." I cringed when he pressed his face even closer to mine, smothering me in the noxious, alcoholic cloud that wafted out of his mouth, only to jerk it away again. I turned the door handle in that instant, and several things happened at once. My father moved forward again, as I moved back into the empty space of my room.

"Don't you dare lie to me!" He roared, as he lunged forward. I fell backward and gasped as I lost my footing. I heard a solid thunk as my shoulder made contact with the metal frame of my bed. I crumbled onto the carpet as my shoulder exploded in pain.

My father stared down at me for a long minute in shock, as I cried, before his eyes softened in realization. His expression morphed from one that was hard and angry to one of absolute horror. I watched through blurry, tear-filled eyes as he stumbled out of the room. He shook his head to himself, in disbelief as he did, like he was backing away from some inconceivable monster. Only the monster he was running away from was himself.

He paused when he reached the doorway, gripping it to steady himself. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He swallowed thickly, looking like he wanted to step forward, to comfort me. But, he didn't. Instead he looked away, shamefully, taking another step backwards. He didn't trust himself, and I didn't trust him either.

I felt myself relax, just a little, as he disappeared from my sight, his heavy footfalls leading toward his bedroom. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean it." I could hear him, whispering to himself, as his door clicked shut.

I sat on the floor, just sobbing until I didn't have any tears left to cry. I don't know how long it was, but I couldn't bring myself to care. When I was ready, I used both hands to hoist myself off of the purple shag carpet beneath me. I sucked in a sharp breath at the strain the action had put on my shoulder, but I pushed through it until I was on my feet. It was throbbing so violently that I struggled to stand up straight.

I closed and locked my door as a precaution before walking over to the mirror that sat above my dresser. Immediately, I began wiping at my face, although most of my tears had already dried, leaving my skin irritated, puffy, and pink. Then, I moved to take off my shirt, unbuttoning it and setting it aside so I could asses the damage.

I had to twist my neck to get a good look and what I saw my a red, angry area across my shoulder, a perfect line across the skin that matched the angle I'd hit the bed at. I knew it would probably bruise, but it didn't look like any permanent damage had been done. Just to make sure it hadn't shifted out of place, I tested my shoulder with a few good rolls, each sending a sharp, prickling-needle sensation throughout the tender area. It hurt, but I could move it. It would heal.

Only as I was emptying my pockets so I could change into pajamas and get some sleep before school tomorrow did I see the text message that had been waiting for me on my phone. It was, of course, from Jack.

**I'm sorry about tonight.**

The mere thought of my new friend made me ache. I missed him so much already.

**Don't be sorry. **

** I'll make it up to you next time.**

** Are you free tomorrow?**

I felt my chest tighten, hopefully, as I sent the message. I wanted to be away from my father, to be away from this apartment, so much I could almost taste it.

**Really? Great! Is seven okay?**

**I'll be ready then. :)**

I smiled, a little sadly as I sent the message. I only wished I didn't have to wait so long to see him again. Of course, I did have school, and Jack did have a life.

I plugged the phone into its waiting charger before I finished changing into my favorite pair of flannel pajamas. With that, I collapsed onto the bed, pulling the covers around me and closing my eyes. The last few hours had been so adrenaline-inducing, I didn't think I would be able to sleep. But, now that the excitement was over, I felt drained. Within moments, I was consumed by blackness. My dreams were foggy and confusing, filled with Peter's green eyes and his tender, warm touch.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

My day went by more or less uneventfully as I waited until I could see Jack. I got up in the morning, with the image of Peter's green eyes burned into my memory. I took a shower, got dressed, then ate breakfast. Then, I went to school. When I got home, I did my homework and made dinner.

I sat at the breakfast bar after I'd done the dishes, waiting for seven o'clock to roll around. My father sat on the couch, beer in hand, watching the season finale of _Storage Wars_ come to a close. He had been unusually quiet since he came home, and tonight didn't mind it. Exactly on the hour, I received a text from Jack, letting me know he was outside. I jumped up immediately, heading right for the door.

"Where are you going?" My father called from his perch on the couch, as I buttoned up my jacket.

"Out." I said simply, already jerking the door open. "I'll be back later." I threw over my shoulder, before I stepped outside. I closed the door behind me before he had a chance to respond, racing down the steps of the building. I could see Jack easily from the top of them, waiting patiently for me in Mae's car.

I had started out jogging toward the vehicle, but I slowed to a walk when I felt myself skid a little on a small patch of frost. Thanks to the moisture and cold that often came in November, they were scattered across the cement.

"Be careful!" Jack called, hopping out of the car as striding up confidently to help me across a rather large patch. "We don't want you to fall."

"Yeah, that would suck." I smiled warmly at him as he reached out to helped me, biting my lip and inhaling sharply to keep myself from crying out when he tried to guide me by my still tender shoulder.

He recoiled instantly, confusion and concern etched across his face. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine." I insisted, although I couldn't quite look him in the eyes as I said the words. "I fell. It's not a big deal."

"You should really try to be more careful, Em." The frown on his face lingered as he gingerly moved his hand to the small of my back. "How's this?"

"That's fine. It's just that shoulder."

There was a pregnant silence as led me over the patch carefully and I could feel his eyes lingering on me as my made my way to the passenger side of the car. We both got inside and Jack pulled away from the curb, driving much more slowly than he usually did. That was probably a good thing, because he looked more than a little distracted. He kept glancing over at me, although whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself.

"So, what are we doing today?" I finally asked. We were headed north, toward his house, but I couldn't be exactly sure where we were headed. Jack was always full of surprises.

"What?" He blinked, looking a little startled by my words, before he shook his head. "Sorry." He smiled warmly over at me as the words seemed to register. "I thought we could go to the house again. If you wanted to watch another movie, I have a massive collection. Everything from Arachnophobia to Zombieland. You could pick whatever you want. Or, we could do something else. I don't know if you like video games, but between Milo and I, we have pretty much everything you could think of."

I bit my lip, nervously. "I don't know if hanging out at your place is such a good idea, Jack."

"Why not?" He furrowed his brow as he looked over at me. "Is this... Is this about last night? Is this about Peter?"

I fell silent and sunk further into the seat. When I thought about it, I felt incredibly silly for not wanting to see Peter again. He hadn't really done or said anything to me, not really. But, there was something about him. I couldn't get him out of my head and I didn't know why. The way I felt when I was around him, I couldn't explain it, it wasn't rational. It was kind of frightening, actually.

"Well... We don't have to go back to the house if you don't want to. That was just what I was thinking. Any other ideas?"

I shrugged my shoulders a little. "I didn't really have anything planned."

"That's okay." He pulled off the the side of the road after another minute, putting the car in park and sitting there for a long minute. "So, what did Peter do? What did he say to you?"

I sighed heavily, as I tried to explain in a way that made sense. "I don't know, okay? I like him. I just feel like he doesn't want me around. I feel like I'm imposing."

Jack turned to look over at me, his eyes filled with their usual warmth. "You're not imposing, Emma."

"Aren't I?" I sighed, heavily. "It really felt like it last night. Does he just not like me, or something?" I looked down at my hands at the prospect. For some reason, it was painful to think about the possibility that Peter might hate me.

"No!" Jack rushed to say, the urgency in his tone catching my attention. "No, that's not it at all. Peter likes you, trust me, that's not what this is about."

My forehead wrinkled in sheer confusion. "Then what is it about?"

"I really want to tell you, but it's not really my place to say." He looked conflicted, and I knew that there was more that he was letting on. I could tell it was important. But, I couldn't tell what it was.

"Okay, what does _that_ mean?" I found myself huffing in frustration. This conversation was growing more and more upsetting with each passing moment.

"Look, Peter's a good guy." Jack said, evasively. "You're just going to have to trust me when I say he has his reasons for being the way he is."

"I do trust you, Jack." I sighed, a little sadly. "Is it okay if we just hang out somewhere else today?"

He nodded a little. "Sure. I know a place we can go."

"Great." I smiled over at him, just a little as he put the car back into drive.

"I'll talk to Peter." He assured, as he pulled away from the curb.

I shook my head. "No, don't do that. I don't want you to talk to him. It's stupid, really."

"Hey, it's not stupid if you're feeling it. It's not like I'm going to rat you out or anything. Just relax, okay? He's my brother. I know how to handle him." Jack seemed so confident that I couldn't help but nod in agreement, but the thought of him 'talking to Peter' still made me nervous.

"If you really don't want to see him, you don't have to you know. Peter isn't always at the house, and there are other places we can hang out."

"I know." I wasn't sure that I didn't want to see Peter again. That wasn't it, not really. I wanted to see him. But, I was afraid of what would happen when I did. It was an odd feeling, one I didn't quite know how to go about explaining to Jack.

"So, you like bowling, right?" Jack asked, as he pulled onto the highway.

I blinked at the suddenness of the question. "Are we going to a bowling alley?"

"Only if you like bowling." He returned, playfully.

"Well, I've only been once." I answered, unsurely. "I think I like it. I mean, I had fun."

"Then I guess we're going to the bowling alley!" He declared, drumming the steering wheel in his excitement.

Thankfully, bowling at night was a thing, and the alley Jack stumbled upon was open until midnight. It was pretty empty when we walked in, but I didn't really know how the economics of a bowling alley worked. Maybe it didn't take much business for it to be worth their while to keep running.

Despite the rules posted in the front, they let Jack play in his converse. I had a feeling it had to do with the shameless way the woman who rang us up flirted with him. It didn't seem to bother him, but it bothered me a little how differently people seemed to treat him because of the way he looked.

I'm sure I could have gotten out of the bowling shoe rule as well by association, but Jack rented me a pair anyways out of fear that I would take a tumble on the waxed floors. Because I didn't have any socks, I had to wear these disposable nylon socks, but they weren't as uncomfortable as I thought they'd be.

When we started, I kept getting gutter balls, so, over my objections that I wanted to play the right way, Jack asked the manager to put up the rails for me. They acted like guardrails, keeping my ball from being able to go into the gutter. However, I still managed a few 'goose eggs', as Jack called them, when the ball managed to pass just to the side of the pins without hitting any of them.

Jack, on the other hand, seemed to be an excellent player. There wasn't a single turn in which he didn't manage less than five pins. Most of the time he delivered with strikes and spares. He beat me by a ridiculous margin, but I didn't really mind.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

**I'm here! :)**

Usually, when I got a text from Jack, it made me smile, but not tonight. It was Saturday night. A string of school projects had kept me so occupied the last week and a half and I hadn't had the chance to see him since our trip to the bowling alley. I was so excited for a game night with Jack and Milo. But—at the last minute, of course—my father had forbidden me from going out. I might have just left anyways, but he had put himself between me and the door when I tried, unmoving and solid like the Great Wall of China.

**I can't come out. :(**

** What? Why not?**

** It's my Dad.**

** What about him?**

When I didn't reply right away, he texted again.

** Can't you just come down for a minute and talk? I'm just downstairs.**

** I can't. I'm sorry.**

** I'm calling, okay?**

It wasn't more than five seconds later when my phone began to ring. I chewed on my lower lip for a long minute in deliberation before I answered, keeping my voice low to avoid being overheard as I spoke into the receiver. "Jack, I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do about it."

"So, what, you're like grounded or something? I mean, you're practically a saint. What could you have done to upset our Dad so much?" He sounded confused, and I didn't blame him. It didn't make much sense to me, either.

"Well, I'm not exactly grounded." I sighed as I tried to explain. "It's not that I'm not allowed to go out. I'm just not allowed to go out... With you."

"Why? What did I do?"

"Well, nothing." I began. "It's not you, really. It's my Dad. He's got this idea in his head that something is going on between us. I mean, you're a guy, and you only come around at night. I tried to tell him that we were just friends, but he wasn't exactly receptive."

"Oh. Crap." He paused for a moment. "Well, I mean, you don't have to tell him it's me. He doesn't have to know that. I mean, we can be more careful. I could always pick you up and drop you off around the corner. I even can try to have you home sooner if it helps."

"If I thought that would work, then we wouldn't be having this conversation." I admitted, sadly. "It doesn't matter if I'm actually going out to see you or not. As long as he thinks that's what I'm doing, we're going to have problems."

"Well, crap." He sighed, defeatedly. "I might as well come up and talk to him, then."

"What?!" I hissed into the phone, struggling to keep myself from raising my voice. "Jack! No! That's a terrible idea!"

"Jack?" I called, when I didn't hear any kind of reply. After a moment, I heard the dial tone, confirming he had hung up. "Damn it." I whispered to myself, as I ended the call and moved to call him back. Before I had the chance, I heard a pounding at our front door.

Although he usually would have asked me, tonight my father seemed eager to answer the door himself. "Stay in your room, Emilia. I've got the door!"

I creeped my way up to my door, slowly cracking it open so I could watch from by bedroom as Jack slipped inside past my father, forcing his way into the foyer. "Mr. Baker, I'd like to talk to you for a moment."

"It's Ed." My father grunted, as he eyed up Jack.

"Hello, Ed. My name is Jack." He held out his hand to shake, but my father only looked at it blankly.

"Listen, son." My father began, more calmly than I could have hoped for. "If you're here to sell me something, you can get the hell out of my house."

Jack only smiled wider as he dropped his hand, seemingly undeterred by my father's terse attitude. "Actually, I'm a friend of your daughter, Emma. I was just coming to pick her up and I thought I should probably introduce myself."

My father looked him up and down, then looked over at me. "Alright, Jack." I wasn't quite sure what I expected, but I was shocked when he nodded and turned back toward the TV, taking a seat in front of it and leaving Jack alone beside the door. "You kids have fun."

Jack motioned for to me come, but I was already two steps ahead of him, hustling toward the door. I wasn't about to give my father the chance to change his mind.

"That wasn't so bad." Jack murmured, as we headed down to his Jeep. "I don't know what you were so worried about, Em."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I made my way around the passenger side of the vehicle. Of course Jack had heard me before he'd abruptly ended our phone call. "I was worried about his temper." I explained, simply, before we both hopped into the vehicle. I wasn't the tallest girl in the world and the Jeep was a little bigger than most the other vehicles he drove, so I had to use inside handle of the door hoist myself up.

"His temper?" His eyes flickered over to me in concern as he pulled off onto the road and began the increasingly familiar route to the Townsend home. "Does he have a really short fuse, or something?"

"Something like that."

"And is he always like that?"

I frowned a little at his choice of words. "Like what? Moody?"

"No." He paused for a minute, as if he were deliberating on whether or not to say what he wanted to next. "Drunk." He finished, clearly deciding for saying what was really on his mind. "There was alcohol on his breath. There were bottles on the coffee table. He was obviously drinking. So, is that normal for him, or is it just because it's the weekend?" Clearly, he had been paying close attention during the five minutes he'd spend inside the apartment.

"He sobers up for work and stuff, but, at night..." I sighed, fiddling with the sleeve of my jacket. "Yeah, that's pretty much how things are."

He looked over at me, seriously, and I could hardly stand to meet his gaze. "You know, if you ever have problems with him, you can talk to me, right? I mean, he doesn't... He doesn't hurt you, does he?"

"Jack..." I tried to sound admonishing, but I ended up sounding more distressed than anything else.

He bit his lip. He knew that I was holding back. "If he does, I can help you. We can help you."

I shook my head stubbornly at the offer. "We're not talking about this anymore, okay? It's fine, I'm fine."

But, Jack wasn't going to give up that easily. He persisted, his voice growing more insistent. "Emma, if someone is hurting you, then it's anything but fine."

"I don't want to talk about it, Jack!" I snapped, trying to keep the tears I felt coming in the back of my throat from manifesting. "Please. " I looked away, trying to hide my face from him as I felt tiny rivets of saltwater making their way down my cheeks.

However, despite my best efforts, my tears were painfully obvious to the man beside me. "Hey, hey, it's okay! I'm not... Crap! I wasn't trying to make you cry. I just want to help you, Em."

"C-Can you stop the car?" I managed, with difficulty.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." We were only a minute or so away from the house, but Jack pulled over anyways.

He put the Jeep in park and he sat, waiting patiently. He didn't even ask why I'd wanted to pull over. He just say back and relaxed quietly in his seat. He glanced over at me a few times, but when I didn't say anything, he remained silent.

I took the time to try to calm down. I didn't know why I had gotten so worked up, but I did know that I didn't want to walk in looking or feeling so upset. I took several long, deep breaths before pulling down the mirror and carefully dabbing away any evidence of tears. My voice was still a little shaky when I dared to speak again, but only because the subject was so difficult for me to breech.

"Look, I know you're worried about me."

He scoffed a little at that. "That's an understatement if I've ever heard one." He shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm your friend. I care about you. I want you to be safe. And right now, I don't feel like you are."

"It's not as bad as you think." I defended, despite myself. "He's just a capricious person, even when he's not drinking. After he's had a few, he'll loose it and... And he won't realize what he's doing. Alcohol is like that, it lowers your inhibitions. And he does things he normally wouldn't do without really thinking about it. He's not trying to hurt me, he just..." I stopped short, unwilling to finish that particular sentence. "Most of the time, he's harmless."

"And what about the rest of the time?" Jack asked, uneasily.

"If it ever gets really bad, I'll call you, okay?" I promised, hoping it would placate him.

"I still don't like this." He murmured, unhappily, although he didn't push the subject any further, instead he shifted the car back into drive and headed up the road to his house.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

The tension between Jack and I was broken the instant we walked through the door. The house was filled with so much warmth, it was contagious.

"Emma! You're here!" Mae exclaimed as Jack and I walked into the living room, hopping up from her seat on Ezra's lap to greet us. She enveloped me into a great big hug the instant she reached me, and I found myself hugging her in return. "It's so good to see you!"

"It's good to see you, too, Mae." I laughed, happily, as she squeezed me to her.

"I'm here too, you know." Jack announced, teasingly, as he strolled over to the couch, taking a seat beside Ezra. "Not that anyone cares."

"Oh, I see you!" Mae countered, exuberantly, before she turned her attention to me, looking me up and down as she pulled away. "What an adorable dress, Emma! I love it!"

It was a soft pink, cable-knit sweaterdress that stopped just above my knees. Really, it was much too cold outside to be wearing it, even with a jacket, but it was one of the nicer items of clothing I owned. I felt so inferior compared to the Townsends and I'd picked it out in an attempt to boost my confidence. I only hoped it wasn't too obvious that I was trying so hard.

"Thanks." I answered, bashfully, feeling my face flush despite my best efforts.

"Doesn't she look nice, Peter?" Mae prompted, turning her head to give him an expectant look.

The second she said his name, I perked up. I hadn't even realized he'd been in the room before, but now that I had, I couldn't seem to take my eyes off of him. He looked a million times better than I did, in a simple grey tee shirt and a pair of jeans. He was leaning against the far wall, although he wasn't really looking at anyone. Instead his gaze was focused ahead, toward the kitchen.

"Don't." He said shortly, letting the word linger in the air. "You're making the poor girl uncomfortable."

Mae pouted visibly. "Really, Peter, I was just giving her a compliment."

Ezra shot Peter a disapproving look when he shrugged his shoulders, still refusing to look in our—my—direction. "If you don't want my opinion, don't ask for it."

I could hear someone clambering down the stairs, but I couldn't bear to look away from Peter for a second to see who it was. Although, Milo's voice gave him away before he was actually in the room.

"Hey! So, are we having game night, or what?" When he entered the room, the path he crossed was directly between Peter and I. I was so fixated on Peter that I wouldn't have noticed the knowing look that passed over Milo's face if he hadn't directly blocked my view of the other man.

"Yeah we are!" Jack shouted, as he popped up from the couch, moving over to the entertainment center to set up the gaming console.

"So, Emma, do you play video games often?" Ezra asked, from his perch on the couch.

"Not really." I answered, forcing myself to stop staring so I could make my way toward the couch. Mae followed, taking a seat back on Ezra's lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. I sat on the opposite end of the couch beside them. "Video games aren't really my thing."

"What are we playing?" Milo asked, as he grabbed his controller and took a seat in a chair across the room.

"C-O-D!" Jack shouted in excitement. I flinched as he tossed me my controller, fumbling with it for a moment to keep from dropping it in my surprise. He only smiled sheepishly as he took the empty space between Ezra, Mae, and I. "Sorry."

"So, what's C-O-D?" I finally asked, as I tried to get used to the feeling of the controller in my hands. "Does that stand for something?"

I expected Jack or Milo to speak up, but Mae answered instead. "Jack's referring to the new _Call of Duty_ game, I believe. They've been absolutely obsessed with it lately."

"It's a first-person shooter." Milo explained, as the menu came up.

"So, what? We shoot at each other? That's the game?" That didn't sound very exciting to me, although, I wasn't really one for video games in the first place.

"Yeah, pretty much." Jack confirmed, as the menu came up and set up a game. I was on his team, and Milo was on his own. I leaned forward on my seat a little as it started, trying to move my character around with the analog sticks on the controller.

"What are you doing?!" I cried, glancing at him in panic as my left my alone to fend for myself without warning. "I don't even know what any of the buttons do yet!"

"You'll figure it out." He said, suavely, as he turned a corner. "Just be careful not to shoot me by accident when you figure it out. Friendly fire is on."

I huffed a little. "Trust me, if I knew how, right now I would."

My jaw dropped open when, at those words, he sprinted back to the start and shot me. "Jack!"

"You would have done the same to me. You just said so." He smiled, a little smugly, as he returned to hunting down Milo.

I shook my head a little, setting the controller on my lap as I waited for the game to end, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I replied. "You know what? You were right, Jack. I think we should do game night every week. This is _so_ much fun. I _love_ video games."

Ezra laughed heartily from beside me. "Feel free to walk away any time you like. It would certainly teach Jack a lesson about sportsmanship, I'm sure."

"That isn't a very nice way to play, Jack." Mae chided, in agreement.

"I'm not the one who—Hey!" Jack cried, as Milo broke out into a laugh.

"Got you!" Milo called, triumphantly, before looking over at me. "Don't worry, you can be on my team this time. I'm a lot better of a teammate than Jack. I won't go shooting you, at least."

"Okay." I agreed. "That sounds like a good idea."

"You're just going to ditch me?!" Jack was outright incredulous, but I could only smile.

"You shot her, what did you expect?" Peter asked, reminding me that he was still here.

I snuck a glance over at him, only to find he'd been looking right at me. My heart rate shot through the roof as our gazes locked. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, hear it thumping in my own ears, as we stared each other down. It was pumping unbelievably fast and hard, like I was running for my life, but I was just sitting there instead. I watched, in some kind of trance, as Peter's jaw clenched and his entire body tensed. Then, abruptly, he turned away and I could almost think clearly again.

"What do you say, another round of the same? Milo asked. I turned my focus back on the screen, watching as he began working on setting up the next round. "I just think it's too soon to be playing anything too complicated."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." I murmured in agreement, as I picked my controller back up.

"Turncoat!" Jack accused, when I chose Milo's team over his in the setup menu.

Reflexively, I chuckled at Jack's antics. "Don't be ridiculous. It's just a game." I shook my head and turned my attention to my new teammate. "Milo, could you please tell me how to aim? I think I figured almost everything else out before Jack shot me, I just don't know how to adjust the scope thing."

"Yeah, here, let me show you." Milo rose from his seat to demonstrate, and Jack sulked at having to wait that much longer to begin the next round. As it turned out, Milo was a much better teacher and a much better teammate than Jack had been.

Once I had gotten the basic mechanics of the game down, I found out I actually wasn't as bad at it as I thought I'd be. Milo and I had more than held our own in several two on one matches against Jack. In fact, I had done so well that we decided to go one on one as well. Jack and Milo went up against each other with mixed results, but I'd decimated Jack in all three of our matches against each other, something he wasn't exactly happy about.

"Aw, come on, Em!" Jack protested, as I set my controller aside. "That's not fair! You at least have to give me a chance to beat you. I want a rematch. Let's just go one more time."

"I've already given you two." I reminded him, not unkindly. "Enough is enough, Jack. My thumbs hurt."

"So, what, you're just done now?" He asked, slouching against the back of the couch petulantly.

"I know to quit when I'm ahead." I smiled, knowingly.

"It was beginner's luck, anyways." He grumbled, as Milo set up their next match.

"Don't be a sore loser." Peter intoned, pushing up off of the wall and taking several steps toward the couch. "You shouldn't take it personally. Jack hasn't quite learned the art of humility just yet, it seems."

"I'm plenty humble. I just happen to be amazing at video games."

"Glad to see your ego's in check." Ezra commented, his voice alive with amusement.

Suddenly, Peter was standing in front of me, his eyes boring into mine. My breath hitched as he held his open palm out to me, leaning down slightly so that it was within my reach. "Come." His voice was still as even and almost emotionless, as it had been before. His words were clearly a command. However, there was something in his gaze. There was was a hardness, but also a softness, it almost seemed as if he was seeking my approval. "You've been subjected to enough of this for one day."

"Okay." My lips moved without my permission as I obeyed, my hand slipping into his. The contact sent a jolt through me as he helped me to my feet. It was quickly gone, but I could feel the effects of it lingering, sending shocks through the nerves of my hand as it sat idly by my side.

"You're not taking her home already, are you?" Mae inquired, sounding quite unhappy at the prospect. "She's hardly been here an hour."

Peter's emotionless expression broke at that. His chest fell and the corners of his mouth drooped in a way that made my heart ache. "No." He answered, his voice tinged with traces of the hurt her words seemed to have inspired. "I just thought she might enjoy a game of chess, since she's finished with _Call of Duty_."

I shifted in place uncomfortably, feeling quite small and insignificant as Peter and Mae talked about me. "I like chess." I said, quietly.

"Good." Peter said, forcing a smile as he turned back to me, putting his hand on the small of my back and leading me out of the living room. "We'll be upstairs."**  
**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Continuing thanks to CherryBlossomAwesom who PM'd me about continuing this story. Thanks for reading! :)**

Chapter Twenty-One

My fingers wavered as they moved between two pieces as I tried to decide on the best course of action. I found it was difficult to execute any kind of strategy with Peter sitting a mere foot from me, but, I was doing the best I could.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior." Peter's rich voice rolled through me and I fought a shudder.

"What do you mean?" I asked with a frown, not quite knowing what behavior he was apologizing for.

"Upsetting you. It wasn't my intention. Not today or... Or any other day."

"You didn't..." I began, but I stopped myself before I could finish. It wasn't exactly true that Peter hadn't upset me, as much as I wanted it to be. "You don't need to apologize. I don't blame you." I finished, more honestly, tucking a stray tuft of hair behind my ear.

"I'm sure that you don't." He said, so quietly that I wasn't sure if he was saying the words to me, or to himself.

Finally, I decided to move my knight over my bishop. Both had been in danger of being taken by Peter's pieces, and I hoped keeping the less predictable, freer moving piece would help my game in the long run.

"Did Jack talk to you? Did he tell you that I was... Upset?"

"Yes, he did."

"I asked him not to." I sighed, heavily. "Although, I guess it's my fault for thinking I could tell Jack not to do anything."

Peter smiled wryly, speaking with what almost seemed like pride. "He has a mind of his own." He faltered a little, after a moment. "Don't be angry with him. I'm glad he told me. If he hadn't..."

"What?" I asked, dying to hear what he said, to hear more of his voice, when he trailed off.

"You deserve to be treated well, Emma. I just want to do right by you." Peter continued, gently.

I furrowed my brow in thought. "What does that mean?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out." He looked down at the board between us, taking the bishop I had chosen not to move, as I'd predicted.

Several games passed. I lost every single one, but I was enjoying myself beyond words. Just being close to Peter was invigorating. I hardly noticed the time passing at all. But, when I saw Ezra coming up the steps behind Peter, I glanced at the clock over his shoulder, and I realized it had.

Ezra smiled warmly at both of us as he approached. "How's it going?"

Peter spoke up first. "Emma is a very talented player. You should try her sometime. I'm sure she'd give you a run for your money."

I felt my face heat up at the compliment. "Peter's just being nice. I've been loosing terribly."

Ezra shook his head dismissively. "Peter's a very good player. Don't be so hard on yourself."

I watched Peter's eyes as they diverted over to the clock as well. He sighed a little, almost resignedly, as he saw where the numbers its arms pointed to.

"It's late. I should be getting you home. You have school in the morning, don't you?"

I shook my head a little. "No. Tomorrow's Sunday."

Although, with it nearing midnight, I know it didn't make much of a difference. I was exhausted, whether I wanted to admit it or not.

"Right." He hesitated, like he might change his mind and take me home a little later. Then I yawned, and his face harden in resolve. "Come on. Let's get you home."

Peter stood and headed for the stairs, and my body followed more or less automatically after him. I smiled a little sadly—and probably tiredly—at Ezra as I passed.

"Thank you for having me." I said, hardly able to make my feet pause as Peter continued down the stairs.

"It's always a pleasure." He assured me, as warmly as ever. "Goodnight, Emma."

"Goodnight." I echoed, before racing down the stairs after Peter. I would have followed him straight out to the garage, but I was aware enough to realize I should say goodbye to everyone else first.

I made my way into the living room where Milo and Jack were still playing video games. I vaguely recognized the game on the screen as _Halo_, something the boys at school were so obsessed with that they taped posters of it inside their lockers and chattered about it near-constantly. Mae looked utterly disinterested as she looked on, watching Milo and Jack take potshots at each other with rocket launchers. Although, she lit up when her eyes fell on me.

"Peter's taking me home. I just wanted to say bye before I left." I explained, as I lingered off to one side of the room.

"Oh. That's good." She said, smiling. "I hope you had a good time tonight, love."

"I did." I confirmed.

"Well, don't let the doorknob hit you on the way out." Jack teased, from his place on the couch.

"Jack!" Mae chided, reaching out to smack him. "You shouldn't say things like that!"

"I was joking!" He cried, in his own defense. "Jeesh."

Jack paused the game, so he could give me his undivided attention, smiling that charming smile of his as he turned to me. "I'm glad you had fun." He said, earnestly.

"We should do it again soon." Milo said.

"Yeah, of course." I agreed.

I heard the telltale noises of a car starting and before I knew it, I was backing away in the direction of the garage door. "I'll see you guys soon." I waved, before I made my escape.

Peter was already waiting for me in his silver Audi. Absentmindedly, I grabbed my coat and purse off of the hooks they hung on, swinging both of them on before I made my way to the running car.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked, as I got in.

I wanted to say no. But, instead, I forced myself to nod. I couldn't really explain it, but I just wanted to be close to him. I never wanted this moment, this night, to be over. I craved him, the way flowers craved sunlight.

He pulled out of the garage and I noticed with some relief that like Ezra, he was a much more cautious driver than Jack. The ride was smooth, and much like our recent chess matches, mostly silent. I didn't really mind the quiet. I couldn't think of anything to talk about, anyways.

He didn't appear to need directions, and even without speeding the way Jack tended to, we made it to the apartment quickly. I wondered belatedly if Ezra or Jack had told him where I lived ahead of time.

Peter pulled up against the curb and put the car in park. "We're here." He announced, as if that much wasn't already painfully obvious.

"Yeah." I murmured, softly, letting him know I'd heard him.

I knew I should be getting out of the car, but I couldn't seem to make myself. Being this close to him just felt so good, it overrode any kind of logic. Peter seemed to eclipse everything else for me, and I couldn't explain it, but somehow I couldn't find it frightening. It was comforting, soothing, just basking in his presence.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Peter turned to face me, and I felt my heart leap in my chest as our eyes met. He licked his lips nervously and opened his mouth to say something, but I never got to hear it.

"Emilia!" I flinched as the sound of my father's slurred voice broke through our conversation, and I realized he must have been shouting out the window for it to be so loud and clear. "Get up here! Now!"

I felt a wave of fierce protectiveness settle over me, and I didn't know where it came from, but it was immediately followed by Peter's hand slipping into mine. The touch made me feel so utterly safe and secure that I almost forgot how afraid I was—almost.

"Get inside this instant, Emilia! Don't make me say it again!" My father snapped, getting louder and angrier the longer I lingered in the car with Peter.

I let out a trembling breath as tears pricked at my eyes. "I'm sorry." I apologized, quietly. "He's not always like this."

"Just when he drinks." Peter whispered, confirming what I had left unsaid. It made me think that maybe my address weren't the only things Jack and Ezra had shared with him.

"Y-Yeah." I answered, my voice wavering as tears slipped down my cheeks.

I closed my eyes and I felt my heart palpitating almost painfully in my chest as his other hand reached over to mop up my tears, tenderly sweeping them away with his fingers.

"I'm so sorry, Peter." I choked out, brokenly. I didn't know what I was apologizing for, not exactly. I just knew I didn't want to see me like this, in this light.

"Don't be." He whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "It's not your fault."

"Get out of that car, now!" I jumped in place as, this time, the sound of glass breaking punctuated my father's screams. He must have broken a bottle. He didn't throw it out the window, did he?

Peter's expression was filled with something sad, and a little dark as I raised my eyes to meet his again. He was somewhere between concern, and rage, and I could almost feel the powerful emotions as if they were my own as the backs of his knuckles caressed my face. Instinctively, I leaned into the touch.

"Don't go." He said, softly. "Don't stay here. Come back home, with me."

His words were gentle, but they held an undeniable authority. Even if I hadn't been so afraid, even if Peter didn't affect me the way he did, they still would have commanded my attention.

"Are you sure?" I rasped, as I fought another wave of tears. "Would that really be okay?"

"Of course." He lulled, squeezing my hand. "Let me take you?"

I sniffled and nodded. He smiled slightly, and after a moment, he released me to move his hands back to the wheel. He moved to shift the car back into drive, but before we could, the sound of a door slamming rang out into the night, making me jump. Silently, I prayed that it wasn't the door to my apartment, but my prayers went unanswered.

"Hey, asshole!" My father cried, as he stumbled barefoot down the steps. I watched Peter's grip on the wheel tense until his knuckles turn white, and all I knew was that I didn't want to be here.

"Let's just go, Peter." I urged, softly. "Please. He's not worth it."

Peter hesitated, and that gave my father just enough time to march up to the driver's window, shouting against the glass. "That's _my_ daughter. This is _my_ family. _My_ business. You let her out of the car and get the hell out of here, you son of a bitch!"

"That's it!" Peter hissed, below his breath, killing the engine.

"Don't!" I begged, softly, as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Stay in the car." He said stiffly, as he swung the door open and stepped out, knocking my father backwards.

"What? You think you're tough?" My father huffed, as he picked himself up.

Peter looked tense, and I could tell he was forcing himself to be calm as he clenched his fists at his sides and spoke almost levelly to the man who had been screaming at us for the last ten minutes. "I will be leaving, with Emma. You're obviously in no state to be any kind of parent to her."

"You think I'm just gonna let you walk away with my daughter?" My father scoffed. "Fuck you. What kind of man are you?"

"You won't be able to stop me, I guarantee you. But if you try, I'll be forced to hurt you." He wasn't yelling, he hadn't yelled once this whole time. His voice was so quiet, it was almost more frightening than my father's screams.

I couldn't see Peter's face, but something about it must have been intimidating, because my father actually took a step back.

"Whatever!" He looked over his shoulder, to me, his face screwing up in disgust. "Go on, go with him! But know that when you walk away, you're not my daughter, you're nothing to me. You're nothing but a whore. You hear me? A whore!"

Peter took a step forward, a silent warning, and my father took a step back in turn.

"You aren't worth anything!" He shouted at me, as awkwardly tripped back up the steps, getting the last word in ever as he retreated in fear of Peter. "I don't ever what to see your ugly face around here again!" I let out the breath I'd been holding when I heard the door slamming—again—as he returned inside the apartment.

In contrast, Peter shut the car door very softly when he climbed back inside.

"You know nothing he said was true, Emma. Nothing." He whispered, comfortingly.

"I know." My voice croaked as tears streamed down my cheeks. But, these were tears of relief. "Thank you."

Peter leaned over, and surprised me by leaving a soft kiss on my cheek. "He's never going to hurt you again, I promise."

I thought he was going to move away, but he didn't. I could feel his breath washing over me for a long minute before his lips were suddenly on mine. I gasped softly in shock, but that didn't last long. I found my hands desperately clinging to his hair, trying to hold his mouth against mine. Then, suddenly he was gone, leaving me cold. I panted for air, and he looked apologetic as he tried to collect himself.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." I was still too stunned to reply as he turned the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life again. "Let's get you back to the house."

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******Signed in reviewers get a sneak peek at the next chapter! :)**


	23. AN: Hiatus

A/N: This is not an update (sorry), but a note concerning when the next update will be and why it will be delayed.

Dear readers,

I'm sorry to say that I'm putting all my stories on a short hiatus.

Why, you ask? Well, I'm a college student, and these are my last few weeks of class. Final exams are coming up and final projects are going to be due very soon. This means I'm going to be sacrificing my social life, as well as the time I usually put into stories here on fanfiction (sad face on both counts). So, for the next two weeks, you will probably not see an update on any of my stories.

I am going to try really, really hard to get an update up for each of them by June 18th, so look out for it then.

Thank you for being so understanding.

~Biv


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